Man Unfathomable
by Laurielove
Summary: Already struggling with her feelings for Lucius Malfoy, a breakthrough in her magic brings to life a man who forces Hermione to re-appraise her life and her needs. LM/HG/Captain Hook. M content. If you don't normally give crossovers a go, I hope you will trust me on this one. I sincerely hope it is not contrived. A personal favourite of mine.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first crossover fic. But it should come as no surprise to those who know my work that it is a _Peter Pan/Harry Potter_ crossover, or, more precisely, a Captain Hook/Lucius Malfoy crossover. **

**The Captain Hook in this is unequivocally Jason Isaacs' Hook. If you don't know his portrayal, you will find links to images on my profile page. If you haven't seen the 2003 film, _Peter Pan_, with him as Hook, go and watch it now! You have not yet lived!**

**It always struck me that crossovers would be contrived and unbelievable, but I hope this one makes sense within a fantasy genre and has a certain amount of integrity. It is, essentially, a Lumione, but James Hook has rather a large role to play in developments, as you will see. I had intended to write a rather brief smutty one-shot threesome to assuage my Hook/Lucius needs (ahem) but, as ever, I couldn't quite manage it, and with characters like these ... is that surprising?**

**Although this is not designed to be an exploration of Lucius' character, it is fair to note that he is certainly a man who has been through hell and is still trying to come to terms with his changed existence. **

**The characters in this story belong to JK Rowling and the estate of JM Barrie. I make no money from the writing or publication of this story. And thanks to JI for playing what could be pantomime baddies in the most fabulously compelling way. The title is a quote regarding Hook from _Peter Pan._**

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><p>Hermione Granger would have liked to have been sure of more things in life. But when she turned up on the granite steps of Malfoy Manor to begin her research that October day, she was at least certain of two things.<p>

One: books were the only things in life, amidst its ever-changing circumstances, that would provide her with the gamut of emotion, adventure and passion needed without the mess of actually having to experience it.

Two: she did not find Lucius Malfoy attractive.

Her beliefs worked to a point.

-xxoOoxx-

As part of her research ordered by the Ministry into deep magical lore, Hermione had come to stay at Malfoy Manor, working in the library which contained one of the largest collections of magical texts in wizarding England.

It would have been foolish to pretend that a woman, even of her fortitude and experience, did not find the prospect daunting. She was to be living under the same roof as a man whom she believed despised her, who abhorred her very existence. And when she had been ushered into the vast expanse of the hallway that chill morning, her feelings on the matter remained unchanged. Lucius Malfoy had barely spoken a civil word to her, save to point out that most of his house was strictly out of bounds and that she was to work in the library, sleep in a small guest room down the corridor, and eat the meals his house-elf provided in the adjacent sitting room.

She had not expected anything better, or sought it out. Malfoy Manor, after her experiences during the war, had hardly been a place to which she wished to return. When the Ministry had informed her of her project it had filled her with dread. But she would not turn down a challenge, and had accepted with her usual stubborn resolve. Yet as she began her work, she was compelled to recall that time, five years before, when she had been brought forcibly to this house and tortured. She had blocked out much of her own pain, dealing with it with varying degrees of success over the years, but her memory of Lucius Malfoy that day, standing dishevelled and disarrayed, a shell of the man he had once been, remained. He had clearly regrouped somewhat since; his exoneration due to apparent repentance was something, and Hermione was not one to hold the past against someone, although in this case it was not going to be easy, or even necessary; she was, after all, only working _in_ the house, not _with_ the owner. But, as ever, if she could make the effort to forgive, or at least forget, she assumed others could too.

And, admittedly, once inside the library, she had set about her task with glee. It was a beautiful, panelled Elizabethan room, canopied with a barrelled ceiling, the great ancient beams providing a comforting and remarkably cosy grandeur to the large room. The Malfoy collection was the finest in private hands. When absorbed in her work, Hermione could easily forget the events of five years before in the drawing room below.

To begin with, she rarely saw Malfoy. He was often away and she was left in the capable hands of his house-elves, who, she acknowledged, seemed to love having her around. They would often linger for a chat and would spoil her with treats and snacks. It was a comfortable, if a little lonely, existence. It was a few weeks into the project before she even spoke again to Malfoy. She had been poring over a fourteenth century parchment about the reincarnation of a dead witch when, looking up, she found him standing before her desk, staring down.

She had screamed.

He had grimaced.

"Sorry."

"Histrionics are uncalled for, Miss Granger. The past remains firmly thus – in the past. I had thought you would have had more backbone these days."

Hermione had to bite her lip not to retort indignantly. "It's not that, Mr Malfoy. I was just surprised to see you there. You didn't knock."

"I don't have to knock. This is my house."

"Yes, but, it would've been ..." The man above her cocked an eyebrow with haughty froideur. There was little point in persisting. "Never mind."

Malfoy had stood silently, glancing around the room, as if unsure why he was there.

"Was there something you required, Mr Malfoy?"

"I came to ask what exactly it is you are working on. I realised that you are living under my roof, eating my food, using my possessions, but you have not yet had the courtesy to inform me why."

"You never asked."

He shot her a glare. She returned it with cold impassivity.

"I'm asking now."

"Your library has one of the most concentrated collections of suitable texts contained in a quiet environment necessary for my task. The Ministry has asked me to investigate the possibility of bringing back the corporeal form of a historical figure through their documentation in text alone."

Malfoy's eyebrows wrinkled a little. It was clear he did not fully understand her.

"I'm trying to bring someone from a book back to life. Make them real again."

His eyebrows rose up high. "Deep magic indeed."

"Yes."

"And this is sanctioned by the Ministry?"

"They have ordered it. The possibilities are endless, as long as it is handled with the strongest guidelines and ethical awareness."

"And they have entrusted ... _you _... with this?"

She could hear the clear distaste in his voice.

"Apparently so, Mr Malfoy." The rancour was growing within her and escaped with sarcastic bite. "Shocking, isn't it? Allowing a Muggle-born such liberties with the deepest magic. Whatever is the world coming to?"

Malfoy eyed her coldly and his smooth tones were laced with grievance. "You will remember where you are, Miss Granger. You may be here under the authority of the Minister for Magic himself, but this is still my house and you will do well to be civil."

Hermione stood up, tense. Her temper did not allow her to be submissive. "I _am_ trying to be civil, Mr Malfoy. Perhaps if you gave me the chance to show you, you'd realise that."

He drew back, clearly struggling with himself.

She thought he would go. Hermione drew in a silent huff of frustration, swallowed back her spite, sat down and lowered her head to her work again.

"Very well."

She darted her head back up, astonished. "What?"

Malfoy glanced down, his brows furrowed with displeasure yet again. She corrected herself. "I mean ... _excuse me?"_

"Come downstairs in half an hour and we shall have tea. Come into the Red Room – the second door on the left in the hallway." He strode to the door before turning back, not quite meeting her eye. "You need not fear – it's not the same room as you were in ... that day."

Malfoy turned away, and was gone.

Hermione remained staring at the space he had vacated. Had her ears deceived her? Had Lucius Malfoy really gone from insulting pureblood to gracious host in a matter of seconds? Perhaps he'd changed more than she realised.

She smirked out a laugh. Tea would be welcome, even if it was with him.

He had shown her to a high-backed chair before a fireplace and had sat opposite in a similar one. The house-elves had put on a feast far beyond what was needed, and after a few moments of awkward silence, Hermione had simply started talking about her work. It did not take long for Lucius to inquire about it. It was fascinating after all, and pertained to his books and documents. He had much to say on the matter. Despite the awkward start, which seemed to have been an almost necessary shadow of the past, their conversation came freely and easily.

It continued like this for several weeks. Morning coffee or afternoon tea shared in the surprisingly intimate Red Room became a common occurrence. When Malfoy was at home it was rare that they missed a short time of rest and discussion together. Hermione had given up resenting him for his past, she was far too sensible for that, and she started to believe that Malfoy must have reappraised, or at least adapted, his beliefs too. She would occasionally catch a snide comment or frown of revulsion when she referred to a Muggle pastime or event, but he now engaged with her readily and openly.

As much as it surprised them both, Lucius Malfoy and Hermione Granger were getting on.

-xxoOoxx-

It was rare that he talked about himself, but he had mentioned his divorce factually at least twice, simply dropping it into conversation then moving on. He never mentioned Draco, and Hermione did not ask. She had no real desire to do so, and Lucius seemed to sense her reluctance to discuss his son. She noted and was appreciative of his tact.

"And are you any closer to achieving your goals?" he had inquired smoothly one afternoon over tea as the autumn rain tapped steadily on the leaded windows of the manor.

Hermione laughed. "Goals? Do you mean my goals in life generally, or the goals the Ministry have assigned to me at the moment?"

"I meant the goals of your work here." There was a flicker of a smile on his face.

She blushed and lowered her head. "I knew you meant that. I was just ..." Hermione smirked, mumbling a little before raising her head and focussing the conversation. "I had a breakthrough this morning, actually. I was able to extract a snippet of someone's voice. It was only a snatched bit of conversation, but it was definitely there, I heard it quite clearly. Quite exciting really."

"Exceptionally exciting, Miss Granger. Now I see why you were such a clever little thing at Hogwarts."

Hermione felt her cheeks warming further at his compliment and when she raised her eyes and looked into his, her mouth ran dry. Malfoy held her gaze confidently, and she could detect none of the icy hollowness she could have expected before.

"Who was this person?" he continued, his words providing welcome relief from the tension starting to coil within her.

"Well ... that's the thing. It wasn't actually from a historical text, but a story book - a fairy tale. I just managed to bring a few spoken words to life."

"But no sign of a physical presence?"

"No. That'll take a bit longer. But I have to say, I have all the ingredients to do it, I feel. It's not the fact that I don't know how. I've worked out the magic necessary. I think it's more a question of need ... of want. Magic of this nature requires the wizard or witch doing the enchantment to desire the outcome with their whole being ... to _will _the person into existence, I suppose. I don't suppose I'm interested enough in the historical figures the Ministry want me to focus on."

Lucius stared at her intently. "In that case, perhaps you should use one of your own books: a book which is special to you, with characters or situations you have a deep interest in, one that means something significant to you."

"Why not? You're right; that seems really obvious now. I should've thought of it myself. Thank you." She smiled at him with delight. Malfoy's mouth turned up at the corners as he saw the open warmth on the woman's face. It was rare he saw such a genuine expression of joy. It gave him a jolt of pleasure which rather unsettled him.

As Hermione worked now, following Malfoy's suggestion, she focused on books which had a particular resonance with her. Progress was slow, but the snatches of voice she managed to manifest grew longer and clearer.

Her enthusiasm seemed to spread into Malfoy, who became more interested in what she was doing, often lingering and asking searching questions. Hermione grew to look forward to the times he would come into the library. He was well-informed and curious and she felt her magic benefited from his scrutiny. Although she was used to the large space of the library, his presence added a further human element to her quest, and she knew he was aiding the success of her work. He would linger at a desk in the corner, searching his volumes for hints or tips. On finding something, he would bring it towards her and they would lean in together, scouring the volume, discussing details and ideas with dynamic and harmonious enthusiasm. His physical presence, vital and tall beside her, which in itself had struck fear into her in the past, was now an additional comfort and encouragement.

When Malfoy was away, Hermione admitted to herself that she missed his conversation, his discussions, his company. But as the days passed he seemed to be around more than before. It was rare he went out for long periods of time now. He would mention business meetings to her with a sigh of resignation, clearly not relishing the prospect of having to attend them. She would laugh and tease him about shirking, telling him that she had been much the same. When she laughed, she would catch him looking at her intently, the corners of his mouth turning up, his eyes alight. She liked that. But he would not stay away long; he now seemed to choose to be at home far more.

Their conversation still focussed on work and magic. They left the personal out of it. Coffee and tea times, although convivial, were still always formal, with the two of them sitting straight-backed in opposite chairs. Hermione told herself that was acceptable; it was certainly what she expected. But she still looked forward to those moments. She would sip her tea and glance up at him; he would sip his, each aware of sharing the physical sensation of hot liquid seeping into them. It brought a secret smile to them both.

And now, after a glance, he would catch her eye and not lower his head.

When Hermione was caught in the deep grey of Lucius Malfoy's eyes she acknowledged at last that things had changed between them.

Yet neither did anything about it.

History, habit and circumstance would not allow them to do any more than talk and smile. Here were, after all, a former Death Eater pureblood and a Mudblood who had fought openly against each other. If his glances became more protracted and his smiles a little warmer, her pride did not let her act on it, and neither, apparently, did his.

With her magic she had moved onto stories which had enthralled and fascinated her as a child. It was while working on 'The Princess and the Pea' that she had her breakthrough. It was tea-time, late on a Friday afternoon and Lucius had been expecting her downstairs. When she did not appear, he had gone up to the library to inquire after her.

"Miss Granger?" he called softly as she worked concertedly across from him.

There was no answer. The woman had her back to him, leaning hard over a cauldron, her hair tumbling in dense, ragged curls down her shoulders. She was flitting from a book to her left, to the cauldron, and occasionally lifting her wand to chant a lengthy and complicated spell. He watched her silently for a moment. At one point a long leg bent up behind her and she let out a slight sigh of frustration. The leg dropped again and the foot tapped discontentedly on the floor. Her left hand came up to run through her hair, causing strands of it to kink in a bizarre bushy form out from the side.

Malfoy smiled. He should not disturb her. And he wanted to carry on watching her.

"Yes! That's it! Finally!" Her sudden exclamation startled him, and he watched as her body reenergised with frantic determination, moving quickly from one thing to another.

Hermione turned abruptly to reach for something on a shelf behind and saw him. Instead of the surprise she might have displayed, her face beamed exultantly. "Lucius! You must come and see this. I think this is going to do it. Quickly, come over here, hurry!" She spoke in a flurry of excitement. He could not remember her ever using his first name before.

Lucius walked carefully over, not wishing to disturb her careful preparation, and stood a little off to the side, observing as she made her final adjustments.

"OK – It's gone so well today. I'm ready for the incantation ... you can be my witness." She smiled across at him, her eyes dancing with excitement. He returned her smile softly.

"I'm listening. Go on then."

The woman closed her eyes, drew her wand over the cauldron, and intoned deeply, _"Corpora animatus, libra formatus, corpora vitam surrexit!"_

Her incantation was spoken while she dropped the final ingredients into the cauldron and scrolled her wand fluidly three times over the potion.

Lucius' eyes followed Hermione's transfixed stare. And before them, rising from the cauldron, there grew a deep green mist. At first, it seemed to be amorphous, but gradually the swirling top formed into a head and arms grew from a developing torso. The phosphorescent mist stretched into long hair and the dips and hollows within it morphed into eyes, a nose and mouth. They watched entranced as a perfect image of a beautiful woman appeared before them. But this was not just a shape, a hint of longing, this was a sentient being. For a moment, the nebulous eyes searched the room, the mouth widened and then words sounded. "I have been searching. The storm was so terrible and I was lost. Is this your castle? May I rest here for a time? Please ... I have been travelling so long ..."

And as the girl reached out a long, slender hand and Hermione in turn prepared to grasp it, the glowing shape imploded upon itself and was gone.

Hermione remained staring over the cauldron, but then with an expelled laugh of incredulity, she turned to Lucius. "Did you see? Did you see that?"

He was smiling broadly. "How could I not? Remarkable. Truly remarkable. You're a very talented witch indeed."

She was not sure if it was with the euphoria of her achievement or at Lucius' compliment, but in the next instant, Hermione had thrown her arms around his neck and held him close into her.

Lucius took a staggering step back, his arms rising to his sides, unsure what to do. The woman's body pressed itself hard against him, giving, warm and lithe. He smelt her suddenly and overwhelmingly – lily-of-the-valley. Her hair tickled his chin, her hands clasped his shoulder blades. Her slight firm body heaved with excitement and he felt her gentle breasts pressing tight into him. Emotion surged through him and he recognised all too well that other feeling, that nudging heat in his belly which would manifest itself too soon elsewhere. _And this with a Mudblood!_

It would have been so easy. So easy to enclose his arms about her and hold her into him, share in the joy of the moment, share in her body, her body which he had gazed at, thought about.

_No._

Panic welled up in him and, keeping his hands limp at his side, he cleared his throat tersely.

With a slight embarrassed laugh, Hermione pulled away. "Sorry," she smiled. "The moment clearly overcame me." She laughed again. His face was dead straight. She dropped her head quickly, covering her embarrassment with a blabber of excited monologue.

"Isn't that amazing though? That was her – the princess from the story. Do you know that story? She has been out in a storm and finds herself at this castle and knocks on the door asking for shelter." She searched his face for a reflection of the wonder she felt, but this time she did not find it. Lucius was looking down at her, his face inscrutable. She recalled the feel of his broad shoulders under her fingers, his firm torso against her as she held him in happiness. She had liked it. His apparent sudden switch to distanced formality grieved her more than she let on.

"I'm sorry, Lucius. Is tea ready? I'll be down in a moment."

He stood for a while, silently looking down at her. She wondered for a time if he had misheard her. Then with a sudden intake of breath Malfoy pulled himself up sharply. "No, Miss Granger. I came to tell you I have to go away. I won't be back for several days. Good afternoon."

He turned from her and left the room.

And as Hermione watched the door closing behind him, suddenly and unexpectedly, she burst into tears.

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><p><strong>Oh dear. As my aunty always told me - better out than in. Some people never learn. Any thoughts greatly appreciated. Don't worry - the pirate captain will be along in due course. LL x<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's the next chapter ... Thank you for the lovely reviews to the first. I will respond ASAP. The next chapter should be hard on the heels of this one too. I have made a banner for this which you will find on my profile page.**

**Now ... what's a girl to do when neither she nor a certain other person can't see things for what they are? A good book perhaps.**

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><p>Just as he had said, Malfoy was away from the Manor the next day. And the next.<p>

Hermione almost immediately buried her reaction to the sudden announcement of his departure deep inside. If she gave it no thought, she could convince herself that it did not matter, that she had not been thrown into turmoil by his rejection of her.

It was easier that way.

What had she believed anyway? She had never admitted her feelings to herself, let alone to him. The prospect of them had been revealed and withdrawn almost within the same instant. And as such, they could easily be ignored, or denied. Malfoy was clearly not interested in her. So be it. Neither would she be interested in him.

Balance was restored.

Her work awaited her. The extremity of her emotions that day had been due mainly to the swell of feeling brought on by her success with the magic, she was sure of it. Now, she threw herself back into her research and experiments with a verve which surprised even her. With no tea breaks or diverting conversation, she focussed completely on improving her magic, sensing she was close to success.

But try as she might, there was still something lacking. She knew what it was: it was motive, it was need. She did not care enough about princesses and damsels in distress to enable them to be created whole in her world.

Yet still she was primed. Everything was in place. It would not be long before the final ingredient would be added, she knew it. Her senses were alight with anticipation.

As she lay in her solitary bed three days after the incident in the library, she allowed her mind to stray, contemplating her time within the house. Whether Malfoy was here or not, this place thrilled her, comforting and inspiring her. Hermione's eyes fell over the high walls: rich tapestries hanging heavy and thick, colours faded over the centuries. The warm dark wood cocooned her, the silks and velvets around her limbs embalmed and cosseted. Despite the family's history, she loved its house. She felt welcome here: secure and accepted. Her hand came out to run up the silk sheet. The smooth texture glided over her fingertips, sensuous and cool. Her magic tingled along her arm; never had it been so ready, so primed. It brought a shudder of sensation over her flesh and Hermione released a steady sigh into the still night air.

It had been so long ... so long since she had been touched. An image came fast into her mind – firm muscles and straining sinews, strong bones shaping broad shoulder blades ... Hermione pushed it aside. Not that. _Not that now._ But still her hand moved instinctively between her legs which fell apart willingly to her touch.

In the aftermath of the war, perhaps to fill the desolation and confusion of her soul, she had developed a voracious sexual appetite. After her split with Ron, Hermione had had many lovers, some enjoyed no more than once, some lasting months. Her tastes had been wide and diverse, and she had engaged in sexual acts which she had rarely contemplated before or since, but always within the confines of a monogamous, consensual relationship. She had treated all her lovers with respect and often genuine affection, and she had considered all of them as potential long-term partners, but none had worked out. She knew her needs lay far beyond what their closeted and secure lives could provide.

But as time had pushed torment into the farther recesses of her mind, and the responsibility of a Ministry job had required her dedication, work had overtaken her libido, and her focus on the magical self had subjugated the need for partners. She preferred to pleasure herself, although even that had trailed off in recent months. But now, as she lay in the large lush bed, she found her fingers questing hungrily, slipping deep inside to draw out her sudden arousal. Her body instantly awakened, rejoicing in the attention that was once again being lavished on it. Her hand came up to a nipple and fingers pinched, lightly at first, but then with growing stricture, until she cried out softly into muffled darkness as sweet sharp pain held her captive, from the compressed nipple to the coiling in her belly.

Her assured fingers stroked boldly over her clit, feeling it swell and harden under her touch. Hermione could not remember the last time she had come, and now she needed it so badly she almost wept. She rubbed hard, not stopping, pinching her nipple harder yet, determined to empty her mind, to think of nothing except the rise in her body - to think of no one: no face, no body, no eyes. _No eyes._

She pushed her fingers hard up into her once again then out to rub strong over her clit. And again, harder yet. And at last, her body dissolved, heaving off the sheets. She cried out, lonely and harsh, and slumped into the covers, the deep relaxation after an orgasm taking longer than normal to seep through her.

And in the solitary heaviness as sleep claimed her, when the imagination teases and flies the soul far away, her mind carried her back through the years. Her imaginings, interspersed with her recent magical quests, took her through books she had read, stories which had entranced and delighted her in the far-off haze of her childhood.

Images came to her as she slept: mermaid lagoons, canopied forests flickering with fairy dances, pirate ships.

And there it was. Suddenly, clear and vivid, she had the answer she was looking for. She had found the book.

-xxoOoxx-

As soon as she awoke the next day, Hermione got up and breakfasted with renewed energy.

"You're in a good mood today, Miss Hermione."

"I've a feeling it's going to be a great day, Pascoe," she smiled at one of the kitchen elves while devouring a piece of toast. "I'm just popping to my flat and then I'll be back. I've got to get something. I'll use the dining room floo, if that's alright."

"Very well, Miss. Master Lucius used that floo when he left the other day."

"I see." She stood up, her body suddenly as tense as her voice, and took her plates over to the sink. "Did he say when he'd be back?"

"No, Miss. He could be gone for weeks. He's not in the habit of keeping us well-informed of his activities. We are simply to keep the house ready for his return at any point."

_Typical._

"Right. Never mind. Well, I can assure you that I'll only be an hour or so. I have a lot to be getting on with."

"I'll have lunch for you, if you'd like, Miss."

"Thanks, Pascoe. That'd be great."

The floo worked well, sucking her with smooth force up and out of the Manor and depositing her in her own fireplace. She walked out of her living room, passing the front door and ignoring the pile of unopened mail which had stacked up, and headed straight upstairs to her bedroom. It was here she kept the small bookcase containing only her most precious books, those volumes which had a special significance, which were so well-thumbed that the bindings were coming apart.

There it was. The book she was searching for.

She reached for the hardback, its spine frayed a little at the top, its pages soft and blunted from constant use. With reverence, she withdrew it and held it gently in her hands, unable to stop a smile forming on her lips. She ran her fingers over the cover, so familiar to her even though she had not looked at it for several years.

The images sprang out. It was a Muggle book, but the illustration etched into the hard cover was so vivid that she could have drawn every detail freehand herself. There was the boy, his outfit of interwoven leaves dancing around his slight form. A fairy flew across the page, trailing dust as she went. A boy in a top hat, dressed only in a nightshirt, soared up the left hand side. A lagoon formed the backdrop within which nestled a large galleon, its sails billowing in readiness, and behind it a face, eyes piercing into her even now, eyes which had captured her dreams from the first time she had read this book as a youngster. And just below glinted the appendage which gave this character his name.

Above these images was written, clear and plain: _Peter Pan, J.M. Barrie_.

It was this book which had carried Hermione on her first journey of self-discovery, which had made her aware of the power of words and the beauty of the human mind and its imaginings. She had revisited it so often when growing up, finding new themes and underlying messages which had been hidden when she was younger: the complexity of adulthood; the pain of growing up; the responsibility, desolation and sheer loneliness of being an adult; the need to be loved, whoever we are.

It had always been to her a book which exposed both the wonder and frustration of the human condition.

And the characters were so vivid, so richly painted in narrative and dialogue, tinged with an underlying paradox and malice. Even the protagonist was dichotomous. There were times when she wanted to send Peter packing to the far reaches of the galaxy.

And then there was Hook.

Hermione let her fingers trace over the outline of the Pirate Captain - _"eyes ... of the blue of the forget-me-not"_. She smiled softly.

If Hook represented Wendy Darling's perception of adult man, Hermione Granger was in no doubt that he had long ago stirred in her feelings of unknown desires. As she grew up, the characters remained no less fascinating to her, but were simply revealed with different dimensions, no more so than Hook. According to Barrie, Wendy had been entranced by him, and so had Hermione.

With a sudden intake of breath, she tucked the book firmly into her bag, gathered a few things she had remembered, and hurriedly returned to the fireplace. She was soon back in Malfoy Manor, her copy of _Peter Pan_ safe upon her.

-xxoOoxx-

Hermione immediately took herself up to the library, energised and enthralled. Why she had not thought of this book before was beyond her. And the character of Peter was perfect to bring into the world for a short time. He was inquisitive, open-minded, youthful and energetic; he would accept the magic and adore his exploration of modern life. Hermione would keep it brief, and then he would return to fictional Neverland before the spell wore off adversely. She had ensured her magic worked that way.

She started work immediately, drawing out passages of text with ancient spells and rendering them alive in the air around her, then taking their essence and capturing it in a potion. The process was long and arduous, but Hermione knew what to do, and this time she felt that which had been lacking before: passion, determination, the desire to succeed. Her magic pulsed unremittingly through her. Several times, she was so alive with it that it would cause objects to levitate unbidden around her and furnishings to sway and billow.

Several days passed; Hermione knew her task was about to reach fruition. She had not attempted the physical incarnation yet, wanting to save it until everything was in place in the hope that she could bring Peter to life fully for a prolonged period.

Lucius was still not back, but she now hardly noticed. His absence no longer irked her, and her fervour with the magic merely caused her to scorn him, dismissing him for not being there to see it.

She was so close. She could sense the breakthrough within the next day or so. As Hermione bent over her cauldron one Tuesday afternoon, her stomach grumbled loudly. She had barely eaten breakfast and had missed lunch again. She grinned ruefully. She would have to eat something.

With a brisk energy borne from flushed pride, she glided down the stairs and headed for the corridor leading to the kitchen.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger."

Hermione turned in shock to find Lucius behind her, having just emerged from the Red Room.

"Oh. Hello." She spoke flatly. "You're back."

"Yes."

Her mind was so full of mermaids and fairies and pirates that the sight of the tall blond man who had captivated her mind only a short time before now jarred. She had become used to him not being around and now almost resented his return. She had told herself she had moved on and resented the fact that he may stir up in her again emotions she had worked so hard to subvert.

At any time before she would have asked him immediately what he had been doing, if he had had a good time, if he had achieved what he intended.

"I'm just going to get something to eat."

"I see."

She nodded awkwardly and moved down the corridor.

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?"

She looked back at him again. "Yes, thank you ... Mr Malfoy." And then she moved swiftly down to the kitchen.

Hermione dismissed her abruptness, but as she emerged from the kitchen later she practically bumped into him coming the other way. She had forgotten how nice he smelled.

"Sorry." She tried to get past but couldn't.

"Miss Granger."

"Yes?" Hermione lifted her head. It took more of an effort than she would have liked to set her face into a neutral expression.

"How is your work progressing?"

"Very well."

"Right."

"How was your trip?"

"Trip?"

"The one you've just come back from."

"Oh. Yes. Fine."

"I see."

The longer she stood there, the more she could sense it: she was once again finding it hard to ignore her feelings. _Damn him._ She would not let this happen. She didn't need it in her life right now. She had her book, she had her magic. That was enough.

"I have to get back. Excuse me, Mr Malfoy."

With a moment's further hesitation, he finally stepped aside to let her pass. Hermione raced up the stairs and shut the door of the library heavily behind her. Rushing over to her desk she picked up her copy of _Peter Pan_ and held it close to her, squeezing her eyes shut, trying desperately not to think of Malfoy. She gazed down at the front of the book again, locking eyes with the image of Captain Hook staring hypnotically back at her. Her breathing steadied and her body relaxed.

Who needed Lucius Malfoy when you could dream of eyes of forget-me-not blue?

-xxoOoxx-

All was in place. For the next two nights she lay in the dark concentrating her energies and imagination on the book, thinking the stories, situations and characters as if they were her own memories rather than fictitious inventions. All the characters were alive in her mind, but as she slipped into sleep, there was only one which would linger: James Hook would remain firmly in her dreams until morning.

The Thursday after Malfoy had returned she was ready. Potions had been made, rituals perfected and spells practised. She had it all.

Hermione had been working to set everything up all morning and by mid-afternoon she would delay no longer. She was almost unaware of anyone else in the house, although Lucius had not been out all day, she knew that. But this was her time; she had no wish to call him up to witness it. Why should she? He had turned from her the last time she had let him share in her success.

She had already succeeded in extracting the aural essence of parts of the text and capturing it in potions, and these she added to the cauldron first.

"_Voces vitam ... voces spiritam ..."_ The incantation started slowly; Hermione disciplined her hand not to rush.

And then, in a process similar to extracting a memory, she brought her wand to her temple and drew out the imaginings of her mind centred around the story. They were pulled from her just like silvery threads of memory, and she trailed the diaphanous substance into the cauldron, adding it to some of the rarest and most precious potions ingredients available.

As she stirred carefully a red mist began to rise slowly, developing into what seemed a human form before collapsing back into the potion. At this point, that was how it should be. An eager thrill of excitement coursed through her.

Now she drew her wand over the cover of her book, and an image of the picture on the front lifted off, complete with Pan, Hook and the ship: a faint fog-like copy, a sagging spectre which hung limp in the air before her. She let it drop in gradually with the rest.

"_Imagio presentum ... Imagio vitare ..."_

And finally, it was hope: her own hope and desire which would work the final magic. She squeezed her eyes tight shut, drawing up all the longing and need she had coiled within, picturing the person she hoped to manifest. Characters danced before her eyes and she tried to focus her mind to think of only one.

With fervent attention and care, Hermione incanted the final charm, feeling the magic pouring through her body, down her wand and into the potion.

"_Corpora animatus, libra formatus, corpora vitam surrexit!"_

Already she sensed it, that great surge of power tearing fast back up her limbs. It almost overwhelmed her and she drew in a gasp of shock as enchantment shuddered through her body hard and desperate, a near painful rush of exhilaration. She could hardly open her eyes for fear of what she would find. But as she pulled her lids open with excited trepidation, her mouth widened in astonishment as she witnessed the distinct yet still intangible shape of a body rising from the cauldron. A torso was forming, and from it limbs and atop them a head, the eyes and nose shaping before her incredulous eyes. The body rose further, growing and shifting, unfurling itself and becoming ever denser and more corporeal as she gazed on it. Her heart caught in her mouth, her breath was held and her eyes stared, unblinking. The person before her was borne up and out of the cauldron and floated, growing ever more real, now tall and erect and clothed. Its eyes remained closed, its head was back, but it flexed its new limbs and let out a vocalisation, primeval and raw, as if trying out its voice for the first time.

And there he was, real and alive. Hermione could only stare, her mouth limp. His feet touched the ground and he lurched, his eyes wide with surprise, before steadying himself with a sway.

"Well ... split my infinitives!"

Hermione's magic had worked. She had indeed managed to bring to life a character from the book, but that character was not Peter Pan.

The man standing before her now, very much real and present, clothed in waistcoat, breeches and silk frock coat of midnight blue and gold, was Captain James Hook.

* * *

><p><strong>Oh. Yes.<strong>

**More very soon. Thoughts? LL x**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for the wonderful reviews so far. I am sorry I am not responding individually - it simply takes up too much time these days and is very hard to keep track of. **

**I adore this chapter. I know I'm not supposed to say things like that, but I do. It was just fantastic writing for all three of these characters and making Hook and Lucius distinct. How do you think they'll take to each other? Lots more of this to come.**

**Enjoy. LL x**

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><p>Hermione swallowed hard, staring in awe at the pirate captain standing before her.<p>

He had a sword held in a scabbard which hung from a sash, and, clear and gleaming in the candlelight of the library, visible under the frills of his black shirt, there protruded the terrible and thrilling glint of an iron hook.

Hook lurched again, his feet seemingly not functioning properly. Finally steadying himself on the bookcase, he stared around blearily, not seeing her, and muttered, "I daresay I feel a little ... peculiar." His eyes closed in confused exhaustion.

The power of speech had not yet returned to Hermione. She could feel her jaw hanging slack but could do nothing to pull it up. Her eyes were fixed on the sight of Hook, his breathing deep, his eyes closed in recovery, standing alive and heated in the library of Malfoy Manor.

After what seemed minutes, the pirate opened his eyes heavily and moved his head to look around. Still, he did not notice her. "Where the devil am I?" Confusion muddied his speech. "Books. Damned books! What's a man to do with all these infernal bloody books! Must be on land. What the deuce ...? Damnation! I cannot remember ..." And then he turned, staring blankly around to take in his surroundings, and saw her.

Hermione looked into eyes so blue they seemed other worldly. He stared at her, clearly as transfixed as she. His eyes froze and seemed to her to be imparted with their own luminosity. They penetrated straight through her. Her blood dashed madly round her body in one frantic gallop. She swallowed hard, her throat as dry as parched sand.

And then he smirked. "Well, well ... hullo, girly."

-oOo-

Hermione wrung her hands in amazed distraction. "Umm ... Hello. I ... I hadn't meant to ... I'm sorry, I ..." She was barely aware of her own words.

Hook pouted a little with a teasing hint of impatience. "I am used to rendering ladies speechless, but you are, my dear, confusing me somewhat. What the devil are you trying to say?"

"I ... this wasn't supposed to ... It wasn't supposed to be you ..." She gave up floundering and asked outright, "Are you alright?"

"Apart from being surrounded by dry parchment and useless rhetoric, I would seem to be. I do, however, have a damned infuriating headache. Nothing a little claret couldn't solve though. Don't suppose there's a drop around anywhere, by any chance?"

Hermione could barely think straight. "I can get you some water."

"Water!" he grimaced. "I spend my life surrounded by the stuff – I don't drink the bilge!"

Hermione was flummoxed. Combined with the thrill of success, her sense of logic and order was in turmoil. This was not the person she had intended; in her overly-rationalized mind that meant things were wrong. She spoke with a panicked flurry.

"I must get you back. You shouldn't be here. It wasn't supposed to be you. This isn't right. I'm sorry. I'll try to return you to your home."

Hook seemed to be recovering quickly. He drew himself up, casting his eyes over the mystified female in amusement. "Will you now? And where exactly have you brought me?"

"It's a house. A country house. In Wiltshire." She tried to stare down at her parchments as if the means to propel him swiftly back into the pages of the novel would leap out at her.

"Wiltshire, eh? The last I remember I was on the Jolly Roger plotting how to eliminate Pan by dismembering him one limb at a time over a period of three and a quarter years. It was a most satisfying way of passing an hour. Still," he stood tall, "Neverland always had a way of surprising one. I daresay my feet would benefit from a brief sojourn on terra firma." Hook took a few steps towards her.

Despite almost falling into his eyes, Hermione's ever-cautious mind was urging her to rectify her error. Her heart continued to race chaotically in her breast. "You really shouldn't be here. The magic wasn't designed for you. I'm not sure how it's affecting you. Is your headache any worse?"

"Not in the slightest. In fact, I do believe it's improving every minute." He did not take his eyes from her body.

"I'm sure there's a way of reversing it. Give me a moment and I'll try to send you back." She tried to turn to her potions and books but was aware of him approaching ever nearer.

"Oh, don't just yet, there's a good girl." He let his eyes linger on the curve of her breasts and waist. "And besides ... I'm rather enjoying the view."

Hook stopped directly in front of her, that lazy smile on his face. He was studying her intently. She felt herself blushing but could not take her eyes from his crafted features, framed by the locks of dark curls that fell around him. The remarkable physicality of his presence only confirmed to her how effective her magic had been. The delight of finding a storybook character who had haunted her dreams so often standing before her real and potent sent a surge of euphoric pride through her.

"I can't ... I can't believe you're here. It's so, so wonderful," she exhaled in disbelief. The urgency to send him back was fast dissipating.

His smirk deepened. "Hmm ... the ladies do tend to say that."

"Are you real?"

His eyebrows only creased momentarily in confusion and he answered by stepping into her yet again, casting those lamp-like eyes over her features.

"Can I touch you?" she continued.

Hook cocked an eyebrow, his lips pursed briefly in wry amusement before turning back up into the arrogant smirk which had danced over his mouth since seeing her.

"With pleasure ..."

Hermione drew out her hand and brought it to rest on the dark blue silk of his waistcoat. She sucked in a breath of shock, having half expected her hand to disappear through him. Even through the material she could feel the muscles of his torso alive and hard and hot under her fingers. And there, under the soft skin of her hand, was a steady beat, the regular thud of a pulsing heart. She exhaled a smile and glanced up at him.

"What's your name?" She knew the answer; he had already mentioned Pan and Neverland, but she wanted him to confirm the sheer fantastical delight of what she had achieved.

"I am Captain James Hook of the Jolly Roger."

Hermione laughed aloud with wondrous delight. "It's too incredible to be true. You're the most wonderful thing I've ever done."

"Am I indeed?" Both brows were up. Even Hook was bemused now. "My dear, as much as I am enjoying you lavishing attention on me ... who the devil are you?"

She laughed again and extended her hand. "Hermione. Hermione Granger."

"How very delightful to meet you, Hermione Hermione Granger." And taking the hand she was extending, he gripped it firmly in his strong fingers and turned it before lowering his head and kissing the back. His warm lips lingered and he raised his eyes to hers, the corners creased with amusement.

Hermione smiled softly with politeness. She couldn't remember anyone ever kissing her hand in greeting. She could feel the colour rising in her cheeks. She could also feel, more sensitively than was necessary, the softness of his warm flesh and the faint tickle of his moustache. He still hadn't taken his mouth away. She tugged a little to extract her hand, not because the sensation was unpleasant, but because she was enjoying it a little too much.

Hook at last pulled away with a sniff and a smirk. "No wedding ring? It is Miss Granger then, I presume."

"That's right. But you can call me Hermione."

She moved away from him to begin tidying the cauldron and ingredients away. There seemed no immediate rush to send him back. She didn't notice his eyes lingering appreciatively over her rear end as it bent over the desk, clad in skinny jeans.

"Tell me … Hermione … you are clearly very much a lady, so … why the deuce are you wearing those impossibly tight breeches?"

She laughed, further embarrassed, and turned to face him, suddenly aware of her extremely female bottom displayed rather obviously for what were essentially nineteenth century eyes. "Umm. It's acceptable for women to wear them these days. They're very comfortable and convenient."

"Hmm … I am certainly not objecting, my dear. You said, 'these days' …" He pouted with incomprehension. "Enlighten me …"

"Umm …" Hermione squirmed, but she might as well put him straight. Deception was not going to benefit a pirate. He already found himself in a country manor miles from his previous location. If he could cope with being transported through space, he also needed to know that he had been brought through time. "Don't be too shocked, but, umm … you're currently in the twenty-first century. It's 2003. Hence the change in fashion."

"The year Two Thousand and Three?"

"Yes."

Hook lurched and stepped back, practically falling into a chair. "If there is any claret handy, I do believe I could benefit from some at this moment."

There was a drinks cabinet in the corner of the library. Hermione crossed to it and poured him a large brandy. He was a fictional character after all; she didn't suppose one drink would matter. "Is that alright?"

Hook grabbed the glass from her and downed it in one, his neck muscles swallowing the liquid in great gulps. He did not even flinch at the fire that must have seared his throat. Pulling in a loud gasp of relief, he closed his eyes in satisfaction. "Thank you."

Hermione pulled up a chair next to him. "I know a little about where you've come from. You have magic in Neverland, don't you?"

He nodded without opening his eyes. "I, personally, am not troubled with the complications it brings to one's life, but I have often benefited from others' abilities."

"Well, we have magic here too. That's how I was able to bring you here. Although, I admit, I had thought I was going to get Peter Pan."

"Pan! You wanted _Pan_ over _me?"_

"I wouldn't put it like that. I just thought he would have a bit of fun here and would accept it easily."

"Oh, my dear … have no fear … I like to have fun too." He smiled teasingly and held her in his eyes again. Hermione flushed scarlet and dropped her head.

"It's … all fine … I'm very pleased you're here."

"So am I," came the drawl. She daren't look up. She knew he was still staring at her. "Now … tell me more about this magic."

"Well, I've been working on it for ages. It combines the inherent power contained in words and imagination with real magical forces captured in potion and spell. As far as I'm aware, it's never been done before. It is a new form of magic entirely invented by me."

"What a clever little thing you are." His compliment further flamed her cheeks. "Are you a fairy?"

"A fairy?" She laughed aloud.

"Granted, you are probably the largest fairy I have ever encountered, and you don't seem to possess any wings, but … who else could do magic like that?"

"I'm not a fairy – I'm a witch."

Hook's face blanched. "A witch?"

"Yes." She was surprised at his clear shock. "Don't you have witches in Neverland?"

"Hardly ever. And certainly none who look like you, my dear. The last witch I knew needed no magic to protect herself – she killed by ugliness alone. Are there many witches in Wiltshire?"

Hermione laughed. "A fair few. And wizards. Witches and wizards are simply people who have magical abilities. Apart from some who dress a little – individually – we look like anyone else. The Muggles don't know anything about us."

"Muggles?"

"Normal people. Like you. You're a Muggle, I suppose."

"Oh." He looked unimpressed. "Hardly a complimentary term, is it?"

"Don't worry about it. You're not exactly an average Muggle. I mean … you've just stepped out of a book!"

"A book?"

Hermione froze. He didn't know. As far as Hook was concerned, he was a living breathing being with a whole life and a past. How should she explain his provenance? He had coped remarkably well with the revelations so far; she thought it best not to inflict more on him now. She shrugged it off and tried to distract him by offering food. "It doesn't matter. I'll explain later. You must be hungry. Do you want something to eat?"

Hook stretched. His stomach was niggling him. "A morsel of food would be most welcome." He pushed himself up as if preparing to leave the room.

Hermione hesitated. _Lucius._

It was strange. She had practically forgotten about him. "Umm. Wait here. I'll fetch you something."

Hook sensed her shift and spoke, as if on cue. "Is this your house?"

"No, it's a frie … somebody's else's."

"This 'somebody else' is clearly exceedingly wealthy and very important to have a house like this."

"Yes, I suppose he is." She was embarrassed now.

"He? An Earl? Duke? Which estate is this?"

"You won't have heard of it."

"Try me."

"Malfoy."

His nose wrinkled in confusion. "You are right: I haven't heard of it. I used to know all the estates in Wiltshire. I had several friends at school with houses here. Surely I would have heard of the Malfoy Estate. This friend of yours – Eton?"

Hermione laughed. "No. Muggles usually can't see the house. He's like me … he's a wizard."

Hook visibly tensed.

If Hermione thought things were awkward at that point, the atmosphere was about to get even thicker. After a brief knock, the door of the library was opened wide and Lucius Malfoy strode into the room. He stopped dead.

-oOo-

Lucius stared. There was a man in his library dressed in an embroidered waistcoat, damask frock coat and knee high leather boots. To top it all he had deep black hair falling in curling tumbles down beyond his shoulders and blue eyes which held Lucius' with immediate defiance.

"Who in Merlin's name are you?" Lucius reacted instinctively and drew his wand swiftly, pointing it straight at Hook. It took only a split second for Hook to react in kind. With an efficient grace which staggered Hermione, his sword was soon held out straight before him, the sharp point eyeing up the tip of Lucius' wand.

Hook frowned, but his sword did not waiver. His eyes flicked to the stick of wood in the hand of the man opposite him. "If you wish to disarm me, sir, it will take more than a twig."

Lucius' hand flicked the merest amount, the wand jigged a fraction, and Hook's sword flew out of his grasp, flying through the air above their heads and embedding itself with a thwang in the wood above the door where it rested, swaying slightly with the force of impact.

Hook's mouth dropped with clear admiration and his eyebrow cocked appreciatively. "Touché."

Hermione had hardly had time to react. She looked from one man to the other. Lucius did not lower his wand, but his arm had slackened and his nostrils were no longer flared in anger as they had been. She rushed over to him. "Lucius. It's alright. It's the magic – it worked. He's come into our world … from the book. It worked!"

Lucius turned his confused stare reluctantly to Hermione. "You never told me it would be someone like this."

"I thought it would be someone else, but it doesn't matter – he's a character too. Isn't it incredible?"

Lucius was clearly unconvinced. He lowered his wand slowly, but still kept a firm grip on it and took a step towards Hook. "What's your name?"

"He's call …"

Lucius' hand came up to silence Hermione. "I want to hear _him."_

"I am Captain James Hook of the Jolly Roger." Hook's words were proclaimed with predictable arrogance.

"The Jolly _Roger?"_ Hermione could hear the sneer of amusement in Lucius' voice.

"My ship."

"Are you in the Navy?"

" … Not exactly. You ask a lot of questions for a first meeting, sir."

"You are trespassing in my house. I may ask what I want … _sir_."

"Well, I grant you the situation could seem a little surprising. But one must not forget good form. You have not yet told me your name."

Lucius made him wait a moment. "Malfoy."

"Title?"

The wizard glared but remained silent.

Hermione stepped quickly in to dispel the tension. "I was just sorting out some food for … err … the Captain." She wasn't sure how to refer to him.

"Do figments of one's imagination require food?"

She hoped Lucius had spoken quietly enough for Hook not to hear. "He said he was hungry. Can I ask Pascoe to get something?" The blond man did not respond, and stood, wand still primed, eyeing Hook. Hermione gently pressed down on his wand arm, urging him to lower it. "Lucius … please. He knows you're a wizard, he's seen your power … he's not going to do anything stupid. This is an extraordinary situation; we need to make the most of it."

Lucius slowly relaxed his arm. "Go and see Pascoe. I'll stay here. He is not to leave this room."

Hermione opened her mouth, but thought better than to argue with Lucius at this point. She saw the grey of his eyes freeze with severity. She took the opportunity and hurried to the kitchens.

-oOo-

Lucius Malfoy and James Hook stood across from each other. Neither moved. It was only the slight flare of a nostril or the twitch of an eye which indicated that they were in any way adversarial. Lucius took a step towards the man, then another. He began a slow pace around him, his eyes boring into the dark head before him. Hook did not seem the slightest bit fazed. If anything, his mouth curled into a slight smirk.

"Hook. You didn't tell me how you make your money at sea."

"I am a most accomplished businessman. I find people are only too happy to humour me in matters financial and commercial. I have a good friend, Long Tom - he's very persuasive. You have done well for yourself here, Malfoy. Pray tell, how do you make _your _money?"

"I'm a gentleman of independent means."

"Ah … family money. Independent means … I had those once, until they proved so independent they ran off and left me."

"Your style and dress are interesting."

"Hm … suits me, don't you think? I take my inspiration from Charles II. A good fellow. Knew how to enjoy himself – something I am constantly striving to do – one reason to rid myself of that annoying little parasite Pan. He does tend to spoil the fun. But talking of style – yours is hardly conventional for an Englishman. Surely they don't let you into the Reform Club with hair like that?" Hook smirked.

"I shouldn't imagine they'd let _you_ into the Reform Club with hair like _that_. In any case, I've no need or desire to join the Reform Club and I've worn my hair this way since I was a child."

"How very odd. Once I had ripped my way through the unfortunate entanglement of adolescence I could not wait to shake off any hint of my childhood." Hook sighed a little. "Dash it all, man. Are you going to carry on pacing around me like a crazed leopard? I have no more understanding as to why I am here than you, clearly. I can assure you that after the little display with that stick of yours, I am hardly going to do anything foolish. Damn it, I'm parched. The girl gave me some very fine brandy earlier. Don't suppose you could stretch to a little more, could you?"

Lucius at last stopped. He eyed Hook yet again. "Sit."

Hook looked behind him. A chair slid itself out from the desk and stopped just behind him. He smirked. "Impressive, Malfoy."

"Hardly. Can't you do magic?"

"Only the magic of my sparkling wit and beguiling personality." Hook grinned, lowering himself into the chair.

"Bloody hell." Realisation dawned. "You're a Muggle."

"The girl used that term earlier. I didn't like it."

"You shouldn't bloody like it. I should throw you out of my house immediately, but I suspect that wouldn't go down very well with Miss Granger."

"And is it important that things - go down well - with Miss Granger?"

Lucius did not speak, but Hook detected his tensing.

Hook raised his eyebrows in amused intrigue to Lucius who merely punctuated his statement with a slight turn of the head. The wizard continued, "But you have seen magic?"

"Yes. There is magic all around where I live. But I have no need for it. I find fear and intimidation work just as well."

"Do you?"

"Yes, Malfoy. Surely a man like you, with vast wealth at your disposal, understands that? I cannot believe your past is all lilywhite." Hook noticed the upward curl of Malfoy's lips before he turned to the drinks cabinet. Lucius poured two large glasses of brandy and brought them back, pulling out a chair opposite Hook. He gave one to the pirate before lowering himself into the seat.

Then raising his glass slightly, he fixed his grey eyes into the blue of the dark-haired man. "Cheers."

Hook raised his glass in return, and they both drank.

It was decided: Lucius Malfoy and James Hook liked each other.

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><p><strong>Because this chapter is special to me, I would really value your opinion - that doesn't mean you have to give a positive review - I just mean I would love to hear your thoughts. It is clear that as this is a crossover it is not getting the story hits my fic usually does - it won't show up in the normal HP search engines. I hope this is a story that will appeal to HP and PP fans - spread the word if you can, that would be greatly appreciated. LL x<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**I've realised that some of you unfamiliar with what I've written in the past, may not realise what, or who, I have in mind with the character of Hook. The Hook of this story, like the Hook of 'Back to the Blue' is most definitely the same one as portrayed by Jason Isaacs in the 2003 film, 'Peter Pan'. This is Hook as I imagine him, and far closer, I feel, to how JM Barrie imagined him. And he is, in this film, quite simply one of the sexiest men ever. And I do not say that lightly. I've put a link to some photos on my profile page. **

**I've just realised that I have both these men in my profile pic. I made that ages ago - way before I even thought of this story, but it is exactly the dilemma Hermione now faces.**

**So - more Hookelicious dialogue. Again, I loved writing this chapter. Thank you for the splendid and very thoughtful reviews. Please bear in mind that ffnet makes it impossible for me to respond to anonymous reviews. If you give me a detailed review (which I will try to reply to if I can) I simply can't get back to you if you are not signed in.**

**Enjoy. I have. LL xxx**

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><p>When Hermione returned from the kitchen with a tray of food she found Lucius Malfoy and James Hook sitting across from one another, sipping large glasses of brandy, chatting.<p>

"Oh."

Forgetting what she had come in to do, she could only stand staring from one to the other.

Lucius stood up, barely glancing at her. "Hermione. We were just thinking of moving down to the drawing room. You may join us if you wish." He was clearly unaware of any insensitivity on his part.

"Right."

Before she could summon any indignation, Hook had risen elegantly from the chair and was by her side. "Allow me. If this is for me, the least I can do is relieve you of it."

Smiling warmly at her, he took the tray. She noticed how blue his eyes were again. And now she noticed more, he was so close to her; he carried a faint tinge of the vanilla of pipe smoke with him. Her grandfather had smoked a pipe. It was such an intimate cosseting aroma, and as the powerful scent combined with the euphoria of bringing him to life she felt her head swimming and her focus gone; she reeled, stumbling backwards. A strong hand was immediately on her arm, supporting her. "Are you alright? Perhaps you should sit for a moment." It was again the pirate who was there for her. He had put down the tray and taken hold of her in one swift motion.

Hermione steadied herself and glanced up. Looking beyond Hook she saw Lucius, his brows tense with what could have been concern or annoyance, she wasn't sure.

"It's alright. I just ... you being here is a little overwhelming."

"Oh, have no fear, my dear," he drawled, "you'll get used to me."

She smiled, once again focussing only on him. His flirtation was blatant but instantly effective. For a pirate, he really was effortlessly charming. The blue of his eyes provided a handle to cling to. Hook smiled before picking up the tray again. "Thank you for getting this. Delicious," he purred, holding her gaze before glancing down at the food. Soon enough his eyes were back to hers. She swallowed.

"Shall we?" Someone else had spoken.

Lucius had suddenly stepped up. He was now standing even closer to Hermione than Hook. Hermione felt something on her arm and glanced down. It was Lucius' hand, exerting the slightest pressure. _He never touched her. Why should he do so now?_ She could feel his thumb pressing into her elbow that little bit harder than his other fingers. She followed the pressure, shifting her eyes from Hook's and up to the grey of Lucius' for a moment.

"If you're feeling alright, that is." He tagged it on as an afterthought.

"Yes." _No thanks to you. _She tugged her arm away from his hold.

Hermione was vaguely aware that Lucius remained close to her as they went downstairs.

-xxoOoxx-

There was a tentative silence as Hook ate at a table set up in the drawing room. Hermione studied him carefully. He ate decorously and with a refinement she was sure he was affecting for her.

Lucius sat and read, occasionally glancing at the man eating in his drawing room, rarely looking at Hermione. Her displeasure with the wizard grew.

"Very fine." Hook wiped his mouth with satisfied finality and stood, crossing to the decanters on the side. "I couldn't trouble you for a little more brandy, could I, Malfoy? Damn good this stuff."

"Help yourself."

Lucius had never offered her an after-dinner drink. Hermione watched as Hook poured himself a large glass, drank most of it in one swill and then filled it again. He was already so at ease in his surroundings that Hermione felt her own nerves settling and her inquisitive confidence returning.

"So ... how long am I likely to stay here?" the dark-haired man asked.

"I'm not sure to be honest. Perhaps a few weeks. I could try to send you back sooner if you like."

"Don't do that on my account, my lovely. Fine food, good brandy ... beguiling company ... I am quite content to linger for some time - if you're happy to put up with me, that is. I can assure you of my utmost decorum and decency. You have given me no reason why I should treat either of you with anything other than respect. Good form breeds good form in return."

"You mean you're not going to kill us?" she asked with sardonic boldness.

He smirked. "Something like that. How do you know so much about me?"

"I've read about you."

"Ah, my reputation precedes me! How delightful to know that one is discussed in print – such things endure, as you have proven. Fame at last."

"Notoriety," she couldn't help correcting.

"Even better!" His eyes sparked with glee. "Nothing like a little blood to stain the memory."

"As long as it's not my blood, Hook," Lucius suddenly quipped.

"I've already given you my word. You need no more."

"Oddly enough, I believe you," drawled Lucius.

"Honour among thieves, eh, Malfoy?" Hook recognised a fellow scoundrel when he saw one.

"I'm not a thief," Lucius declared immediately.

Hook smirked. "What do you think, Hermione? Is Mr Malfoy correct?"

She took time to think about it, appraising Lucius hard. "Mr Malfoy is many things, some of them rather unpleasant, but no ... he is not a thief." The blond man looked at her over the top of his book and she wondered momentarily if she had pushed too far, but his eyes lowered again. A rush of blood flowed to her head and she knew it was visible in her cheeks.

Hook picked up a book entitled _'A Cloak of Wizardry – the Anonymity of Magic in a Muggle World' _and settled down with his brandy.

Hermione studied the two men sitting in stark contrast to the other. Whatever else she may think, it was a remarkable and intriguing sight. Hook had settled so easily into the situation that she no longer allowed herself to be awed by his presence. Instead, a warm glow of satisfaction sank through her, easing her into deep relaxation. She lay against the nestling back of the sofa, her focus never leaving them. The firelight danced softly over their features, ridding both of them of the bitterness failure and disappointment etches into a face. She could look at them forever.

Time ticked away slowly.

"Why are you staring at us?" After a while Lucius spoke, a slightly aggrieved edge to his voice.

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm not, I'm just ... thinking with my eyes open, and you two happen to be in my line of sight. It has been a rather unusual day, you know. The magic was tiring and ..."

"Yes?" It was Hook inquiring of her now.

"Well ... you're here."

"Yes, you still haven't fully explained exactly how that has come about. Not that I am objecting to the situation." He glanced around, dangling his hook over the arm of the high-backed chair. "You have a very comfortable house, Malfoy."

"Thank you."

"My family home was like this ... or at least what I can recall of it before my father kicked me out without a shilling to my name."

"Why was that?"

Hook's eyes flashed at Hermione's unflinching question.

"She's a feisty one, isn't she, Malfoy?"

Lucius simply smiled into his glass.

"The tightness of her breeches seems to be reflected in the sharpness of her tongue."

"I'd advise caution, Hook. Miss Granger will not appreciate being spoken to like that."

"No ... _Miss _Granger will not. It's back to that now, is it, _Mister _Malfoy?"

Hook looked from one to the other with a smile of wry amusement and took another slug from his glass. "Very fine brandy, Malfoy. You run a tight ship."

Lucius sniffed a laugh out.

"Ever been to sea, Malfoy?"

"No. I've never had the need or the motivation. We have other forms of transport at our disposal. The thought of lurching around on a leaking wooden barge isn't something that appeals to me."

"Shame. The sea can bring out the best and the worst in a man – a true test of character. Every man should have a time at sea."

"Is that where you went when your father disowned you?" Hermione's question broke the increasingly masculine atmosphere pervading the room.

"Feisty ... and persistent." Blue eyes flashed at Hermione. "I admire that. It's not many women who would stand up to James Hook."

"You wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me ... James Hook."

"I can only take your word for that, as you are providing me with very little further explanation." He smirked. She had to look away. Hermione glanced at Lucius. He was staring silently at her, his eyes grave.

"Tell me about those other forms of transport then, Malfoy. Don't tell me you all fly around on ridiculous broomsticks?" he chortled.

"Broomsticks are less popular nowadays but still used for a variety of purposes, most notably Quidditch."

"Quidditch?"

"It's a sport played only by wizards."

"And witches," Hermione corrected.

Hook's lip curled. "How desperately inelegant. Even Pan can fly unaided – rancid piece of filth."

"Then there's Apparition, portkeys, floo transport."

"Floo transport?"

"Travelling via fireplaces," mouthed Hermione.

Hook's nose wrinkled in further distaste. "Surely that plays all hell with one's garments." Hermione smiled. "I'm rather glad I don't need to ascribe to the unfortunate necessities of these horrific methods. Give me a brig, a good square sail and a fine wind any day! Have you ever been to sea, Hermione?"

"Yes. My parents had a boat. We used to go out quite often."

Lucius concentrated on pouring himself another brandy. He neglected this time to offer Hook a top-up.

"Aha! A woman of sense as well as beauty! What a catch you are, my pretty. Isn't she, Malfoy?" He turned to Lucius, grinning expectantly for an answer.

"Miss Granger has many abilities." Lucius was once again staring into his glass. Hermione glared at him; he was infuriating her tonight.

"Miss Granger is rather sick of being spoken about in the third person by Messrs Hook and Malfoy. I do realise you come from a different era, Captain, but please don't call me your 'pretty' again. I'm not."

Hook allowed his eyes to sweep over her body. "Pity."

Hermione looked to Lucius again. He at last raised his eyes to hers then cocked his eyebrows dispassionately. _She had brought the man here; she could handle him._

"Lucius. Captain Hook needs a bedroom. Can I leave that to you?"

"You can hardly be expected to arrange it, can you? You have no jurisdiction in this house."

It was as if he had taken hold of her heart and squeezed. She opened her mouth in protest but found she could not respond. "I ... have you spoken to Pascoe?"

"Forget it! It's in hand! It's none of your business!"

Hermione's body was rigid with shock. She was used to his cold disdain but this sudden flare of temper threw her. She glanced around, focusing her attention instead on Hook in an attempt to distract herself from it.

"Right. I'm going then. Good night, Captain. I hope you'll be alright. I'm not sure how things are going to proceed. I suppose for now, we should just take one day at a time."

"Indeed." Hook rose swiftly to cross to her and took her hand in his again, lifting it smoothly to his lips. He was smirking up at her under his thick lashes but deftly denied her the caress of his lips. She opened her mouth, her breath catching immediately. "Please ... no more 'Captain'. Here, I am simply James. You will do that, won't you ... Hermione?" And then at last he kissed the back of her hand. For an area so used to the casual roughness of everyday contact, the sudden overwhelming sensuality bestowed by his soft, warm flesh made her gasp audibly.

"Yes."

"Thank you ... for bringing me here. If nothing else, you alone make it worthwhile."

Hermione smiled, her eyes lingering in his. Her argument with Lucius was forgotten instantly. In fact, Lucius' presence in the room was forgotten instantly. She backed away from James, still smiling at him, resplendent in all his Restoration glory. She didn't look once at Lucius. The same could not be said for him.

-xxoOoxx-

As soon as Hermione had gone, Hook tossed his book aside, refilled his glass yet again and turned to Lucius.

"So, Malfoy. Tell me about the fragrant Miss Granger."

"What do you want to know?" Lucius' voice was as flat as he could manage.

"Why is she here?"

"She's working here."

"Does she work for you?"

"No. She's using my library."

"Have you bedded her yet?"

Lucius turned his cold eyes on Hook but did not answer.

"Clearly not." Hook smirked. "And why not?"

"Miss Granger and I do not have that kind of relationship."

"Why ever not, man? What man wouldn't want to have her? Those breeches she wears ... hounds of hell ... they bring out feelings in me I have not experienced for ..." His voice trailed off and his head fell back after he'd sucked in another mouthful of brandy.

Lucius spoke with affected disinterest. "You bed her then. You clearly wish to and she, from what I have witnessed, seems more than interested in you."

"Ha! What kind of man are you to let a stranger into your house and steal your lady!"

"She is not my lady." A faint edge had crept into the refined tones.

"But you would like her to be."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do. Your lust is positively bristling out of you, man. How do you manage to function with her around? I'm surprised you haven't forced yourself on her yet."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm a gentleman." Lucius now sounded genuinely offended.

"So am I! I am famous for giving a man a chance to plead desperately and uselessly for his life before plunging my hook into his kidneys. You and I are the same, Malfoy."

"What do you mean?"

"Survival. By whatever means necessary. But when it comes to women, I agree. Force should never be employed – not that I've ever encountered much resistance in any case." He allowed himself a self-satisfied reminiscing grin before continuing. "The pleasure to oneself is always enhanced if the woman is experiencing the heights of ecstasy in one's hands, don't you find?"

Lucius caught his eyes but could not prevent the small smirk from showing.

"And how I would love to hear the heights of Miss Granger's ecstasy. Why the devil haven't you had her yet? She is ready and ripe, I can tell. Seduction would be straightforward enough."

"No."

"No! Don't be a fool, man!" Hook stared at Lucius in disbelief. The wizard could stand it no more and dropped his gaze. "Oh ... I do believe I understand. You're smitten, Malfoy. Now there's a complication any gentleman can do without. I, luckily, have remained remarkably unencumbered with such inconveniences throughout my life."

"There are times, Hook, when it is best to shut up."

"She wants you."

Lucius did not respond.

"It is obvious. Can't you read a woman, Malfoy?"

Lucius stood up suddenly, gripping his glass and pacing before the fireplace. "Don't be ridiculous! She had eyes only for you tonight." His words were now terse and tetchy.

"Well, she is getting little from you, and I was working to attract her. It is easy enough. You're a fine looking fellow, Malfoy, you know the way it goes: a lingering gaze, a tender smile, a brush of the lips, a compliment. It is hardly difficult."

"Not in this case." He scowled. "I cannot 'have her' as you so eloquently put it."

"I see no reason why not."

"I wouldn't expect you to understand. She's ... not my kind." It was Lucius who was now pouring brandy down his throat.

"She looks very much your kind to me." Hook remained seated, his head resting leisurely against the chair as he surveyed Malfoy with amusement.

"Miss Granger is a Mud ... Miss Granger is Muggle-born."

Hook's eyebrows rose in befuddlement. "Come again?"

"She does not come from a line of wizards. Her parents were Muggles: non-magical."

"But she's a witch."

He shrugged tersely. "She can do magic."

"And rather stupendously by the look of it. I mean – here I am!"

Lucius scowled.

"Come now, Malfoy. There can't be many witches or wizards who could perform magic like that, can there?"

"Her ability is not in question! It is the ... purity of her blood."

"Purity of her blood!" Hook spluttered out a cough of bemused indignation. "My dear fellow, I have spilt enough blood in my time to know that when it is running out red and raw before you, it matters not if you are a leprous Whitechapel beggar or the ruddy King of Spain! Blood ... is all exactly the same."

Malfoy looked steadily at him.

"In any case, in bed it is hardly blood one is interested in. Those succulent little veins of hers could be flowing with seawater and she would still be a delectable morsel. Bury your vanity and pride, man; it's suffocating you!"

Lucius was taut with indignation and slammed his glass down on the table. "What makes you so sure she wants me? I've seen no evidence of it. She treats me with disdain and indifference. You saw the way she spoke to me tonight!"

"You ask for it; you are no better."

"Watch your mouth, Hook!" The grey eyes flashed. Hook didn't flinch.

"A woman needs to feel wanted. Surely a man of your standing knows that. You have been married, have you not?"

"Yes."

"Where is your wife now?"

"We ... grew apart."

"Shame, still ... there's life in the old dog yet, I warrant. Have you had many lovers?"

"Since my divorce?"

"Hm."

"Not many."

"Why not?"

"Clearly you and I are not as alike as you wish to believe, Hook."

"It beggars belief, man! A handsome devil like you, money beyond imagining, social standing, wonderful house ... you should have rooms full of women ready to fulfil your every whim and want."

"I don't want rooms full of women! I want ..."

"Go on."

"Damn you! I don't know! I don't know what I bloody want!"

"Yes, you do. You want her. You just can't bear to admit it to yourself."

Malfoy went right up to Hook and jabbed his forefinger into his face. "No! I don't want her. I do not want a Mudblood!"

"So you have no claim on her?"

"No!"

"And you would not mind if another man took her?"

"She's free to see who she wants!"

"In that case ..." Hook took a final slug of brandy. "I'll have her."

* * *

><p><strong>Ooh, James, you are a cad and a bounder ... That's why we love you! ;-)<strong>

**Thoughts, pretty please? xxx**


	5. Chapter 5

**Here we are with the next chapter at last. Sorry it's a little later than I'd hoped. This and the next one took more editing and rejigging than I had envisaged.**

**Thanks for the lovely reviews, as always - your insightful comments mean so much. I am so glad you are enjoying this little tale of our Pirate Captain ... and others ... **

**This chapter contains references, not only to _Peter Pan_, the novel, but also to a real speech JM Barrie gave one year at Eton. It was a fictionalized account of Hook returning to his old school in later years (called 'Hook at Eton') and being seen in a state of some melancholy. The person who saw him described him as _'the handsomest man I've ever seen, but at the same time, slightly disgusting'_. If you go to my Hook comm on LJ (the link is on my profile) and scroll through the posts, you'll find the reference.**

**I won't be delaying too long in posting, but I do still need to work on this, so I won't be posting quite so regularly as I did to start with.**

**By the way, I'm not sure about all the new 'Share publicly' things which have appeared on ffnet. But if you want to click on the +1 thing, I'm pretty sure I'd greatly appreciate it. I don't even know what happens yet!**

**And so ... onwards.**

* * *

><p>Hermione hardly slept. Her thoughts were consumed with Hook. Where was he sleeping? Was he comfortable? Confused? Perhaps he was ill and the magic would make him fade away or become diseased. She half-believed that when she awoke the next day he would simply have vanished and the whole thing would have been at best a dream, more likely a failure.<p>

The snatched moments of sleep she did manage were tormented with visions of boats pitching on roiling seas. She was on the deck, desperately trying to keep hold, to grab onto the side, grip onto the rigging. Looking up to the bridge she saw the outline of a man, tall with long hair whipping his face – she could not discern his features but his bright eyes pierced through the ferocious raging of wind and sleet. He reached out a hand towards her but she daren't let go to grab it, she couldn't. With feverish heat, she woke frequently during the night to shake off the nightmare.

Hermione couldn't lie in bed long the next day and went downstairs early but cautiously. The house was quiet, but on approaching the kitchen she could hear the low tones of a man singing. She did not recognise the song; it seemed to be about drinking rum with someone called Cassandra in Port of Spain.

She pushed open the door. There, back turned, thick black curls cascading, was James Hook. It was immediately clear that her concerns over his well-being were unfounded. He was spreading copious amounts of marmalade onto a thick piece of bread using his hook. Turning to see her, he grinned broadly.

"Aha! Hermione, my dear. Good morning! And what a beautiful morning it is. I trust you slept well?"

"Yes, thank you." She beamed, watching him wipe the marmalade off his hook with a long slow slide of a muslin cloth. He even made that look erotic. "I should be asking you that."

"Go on then."

"What?"

"Ask me that."

She giggled and blushed, muttering, "Did you sleep well?"

"Well enough! However, I am not used to equilibrium. I prefer a little - rise and fall - in my bed, shall we say. You can understand that, can't you, my lovely?"

His eyes were fixed on her again and he had walked over to stand directly before her. "Yes, I suppose if you are used to sleeping ... on the water ... But, please, I said yesterday, don't call me things like that. My name is Hermione."

"Apologies, treasure."

She crossed her arms with a glare. "Captain Hook ..."

"James."

"Why should I call you by your first name, if you don't call me by mine?"

"I am complimenting you, my beauty. I do not use those words lightly. It is a form of flattery. I am insulted you reject my words." He didn't look insulted; he was still smirking.

She turned away, trying to ignore the crawl of attraction which followed her persistently. "Did you stay up late?"

"Not especially."

"Did you talk a lot? To Lucius?"

"For a while. A good man." Hermione took that to mean that he thought Lucius was good at being a man, not that he was a good person. It did not surprise her, but neither did it dismay her, oddly.

"Would you like tea or coffee?"

"Coffee? I have not had coffee for many years. How glorious!" He sauntered across to her, sniffing in hard as if he could smell the brew already.

His boyish enthusiasm brought a smile to her face. It was good to please him. She crossed to the coffee maker and asked over her shoulder as he sat down, "Are you feeling alright?"

"As right as rain!"

"No headaches? Dizziness?"

"Not a jot."

"And you're still ...?" She turned back, sitting beside him at the table.

"What?"

Reaching over, she touched his arm, feeling the firm muscles and rubbing along them, confirming his physicality. She looked up into his face. "Real."

"Oh yes. As real as you, beauty."

She studied him: his eyes were the same sapphire blue she recalled from the night before, his red lips turned up slightly, the surprisingly soft curl of his beard tapered to a point which, despite its potential for the ridiculous, somehow simply worked. And around his crafted face tumbled that rich black hair – _hair like dripping black candles_.

"You don't look slightly disgusting," she mused, half to herself.

His eyebrows arched in surprised query. "Excuse me?"

"_The handsomest man I've ever seen ..."_

The pirate's mouth curled appreciatively, but it was clear he was not surprised at her declaration.

"I'm just quoting someone else," she stated factually, quickly averting her gaze.

"Quoting?"

"Yes," she sighed, "you're essentially one great big quote."

His face creased into an expression of offended confusion and for once he lost grip of his smooth flow of seduction. She stood up hurriedly and went to retrieve the coffee.

"I suppose I should tell you. Here – have this first." She placed the cup of black liquid in front of him and took a deep breath before starting. "The magic which brought you here didn't bring you from a real past. You don't exist in history. You exist in fiction. You're from a book – a story book."

"What?" The blue eyes flickered momentarily with fear.

She spoke gently. "You're a character created by an author, a man called JM Barrie."

He was silent, his eyes shifting rapidly as if searching for clarity.

"Are you telling me I am not real? … That I don't really exist?"

"Well, you do now because I made you rise, as it were, from the book. But ... no, I suppose you didn't exist before I made you ... apart from in the words on the page and in people's imaginations." She paused, swallowing her brutal honesty hard. "I know it's hard to take on board, but I owe it to you to tell you."

"I feel real."

"Well, you clearly are now," she soothed.

"But ... I remember, I remember my past, my childhood – not that it is worth remembering. I have scars, wounds, emotions, senses – how can you tell me that is all in imagination?"

"That is how it was. Obviously you're here now, alive and present, and as you have memories of a life, then, I suppose, as far as you should be concerned, you are real. No one can take that away from you, but ... you cannot stay in this world forever."

Hook was silent for some time, his face grave. "Show me this book." The sharp determination was unnerving.

Hermione went quickly to retrieve the book and handed it to him apprehensively. He grimaced at the cover. "This isn't the right one. This book is called 'Peter Pan'." The name of the boy was spoken with clear repugnance.

"That _is _your book."

"But ... Are you telling me that I am not even the central character in this fiction? That this book is mainly about _Pan?"_

"Not exactly. It's as much about you, I feel, and others."

"And so who am I? Who am I – _here - now?"_

"I suppose you are ... my interpretation." She smiled tenderly at him and saw a little of the tension ease from his face.

He looked at her with such intensity she felt faint. "What _you_ want?"

"What I want."

"Well ... if I am real enough for you, then I should simply enjoy all you have brought to me. I would not want to disappoint you, Hermione." He spoke with that teasing cadence again, but she detected a poignant honesty in his voice. The grave severity had melted away and now he gazed steadily at her. "You said something earlier. Something about ... handsome."

"I was quoting Barrie."

"Remind me."

"The ..." She dropped her head, unsure if she should flatter his already grotesque ego.

"Yes?" The honeyed voice prompted her irrevocably.

"'_The handsomest man I've ever seen.'"_

Hook smiled. Hermione had not finished. "_'But at the same time, slightly disgusting.'_ Not my words."

His smile vanished. He searched her eyes and spoke, his words so delicate as to be almost still caught on his tongue, "Am I disgusting to you, Hermione?"

"You don't disgust me, if that's what you mean. That doesn't mean there aren't things about you which are disgusting. In any case ... I wouldn't want you to be perfect."

"Wouldn't you?"

"Of course not."

He smiled gently, for once not a smirk or a grin, but a genuine smile. The question which followed was equally genuine. "Do you like working here, Hermione?"

"Yes."

"You say that with immediate assurance."

"I must mean it then."

"But it means working with Malfoy."

"Not _with_ him. We avoid each other."

"Deliberately?"

"Yes. It's better that way."

"Why?"

"It just is."

He looked at her intently; his eyes darting over her face. "Is he slightly disgusting too?"

"Yes." _Was she surprised at how easily she said it?_

"He doesn't look disgusting to me. I would say he was a very handsome man."

"On the surface perhaps."

"So the disgusting lies beneath?"

"That's normally the way."

"Is that the way with me too?" He took a step towards her.

"Most definitely."

"You speak very plainly. I like that." He smiled and stepped in once more. His very presence seemed to extinguish all else in the room.

"It normally gets me in trouble."

"Getting in trouble can be fun. Just as being slightly disgusting can be fun." He was almost touching her now.

She sighed, trying to steer the conversation on a different path. "I'm not sure what I should do with you."

"I know exactly what _I_ could do with _you_."

Hermione rolled her eyes in an attempt to retain the upper hand, but her insides pranced as chaotically as if he had touched her. She struggled to focus her rationality. "I meant - Do you want to go out? Go to a town?"

"On the rare occasions I venture back to England in my time (whenever that is) my appearance alone causes quite a disturbance. I should imagine that will remain the case even now. I am content to stay here for the time being."

"Well, you need to get out a bit. We'll just go for a walk around the grounds. Oh, bloody hell. What about clothes? You can't wear those all the time." She indicated his waistcoat. It was the same one he'd had on when he arrived, although she noted the shirt looked different.

Hook looked down at his clothes, stroking the arm of his shirt. "Malfoy has magicked me several different items, all in my style and to my taste. I have a wardrobe full of clothes which please me very well."

"Oh." Once again, she was lost for words.

"Impressive, I'd say." Hook glanced at her with a sardonic grin.

"That's easy enough to do." She shrugged, a red glow rising in her. Her lie of self-deception raised the bile in her throat. It took difficult and concentrated magic to summon new items from scratch. She knew it would take considerable time and research. Malfoy had never offered to do so for her.

"Is it? It took him all morning. He said you brought all your clothes from your home. Could you not have conjured some while here?"

"Well ... yes ... I just ... didn't want to ... I like my things, the things which I've bought ... you know ..." She blustered through a paltry explanation.

"Of course." She couldn't look at him; his eyes were burning her. His tone softened. "I would like that walk very much, Hermione. At what time shall we go?"

"Three o'clock?"

"I look forward to it. I do so like to chat, and besides, you haven't finished telling me about Malfoy."

"Yes, I have. There's nothing more to say."

"I think you're telling a porky pie," he teased.

"No, I'm bloody not." After James' revelations about the clothes Hermione was even less inclined to be gracious to the owner of Malfoy Manor. "Lucius and I just don't think of each other in that way."

"How delightful - you're as good a liar as I am! You know full well you want him to give you a jolly good seeing to."

She turned away from him, immediately furious. She wasn't sure if her indignation stemmed from his impertinence or the truth of what he had said. "I thought you said you were a gentleman!"

"If _he_ was a gentleman he would have taken you into his bed and ridden you to Kingdom Come by now."

And, as is the habit of the human mind when a sexual act is mentioned, it has no option but to force the image with vivid potency into the forefront of thought. Hermione could now picture nothing except Lucius, naked, damp and taut - riding her, as Hook so eloquently put it, to Kingdom Come. Her attention drifted, but she forced herself back with spite and exploded at the pirate.

"Captain Hook, may I remind you that I alone had the power to bring you here, and I have the power to send you back. Shut up or you'll find yourself back scrubbing the decks of your bloody ship within the hour!"

"Scrubbing the decks? I haven't scrubbed a deck for ... let me think ... twenty-two years. What do you think my dogs are for?"

"Dogs? On board ship? How does that work?"

"Not hounds, woman! Not real damned dogs! My dogs are my men! Although I cannot really call them that, hence the other moniker. They deserve to be treated no better. But I can kick them and flog them and spit on them and they'll still come whining for more. I inspire devotion."

She looked back at him. "You _are_ disgusting."

"If what you tell me of my provenance is true, then you knew that already."

"I did."

He was as close as before. His words drifted the short distance down to her, mingled with that sweet smoky vanilla. "And still you want me."

She opened her mouth to object, but there was no point in lying. But with an ego like that, she wasn't going to make it easy for him. Fixing him with a defiant stare, she spun on her heels and left the room.

-xxoOoxx-

As if one narcissistic scoundrel wasn't enough, Hermione turned down the corridor only to find Lucius coming the other way. She huffed past him, an audible 'tut' escaping from her only half accidentally.

"Everything alright?"

_Since when did he care?_

"Yes. Fine, thanks." She barely looked at him.

"Did my guest sleep alright?"

_His guest?_

"Yes, tha ... Oh, sorry, Mr Malfoy. I thought for a minute you were asking after _me_." She spat her words with such distasteful sarcasm even she struggled not to regret them. "He's in the kitchen. Go and ask him yourself. You two seem to get on very well."

"Hm. An interesting man. He's welcome here."

"Yes, well, he can't stay forever." She headed off again.

"Miss Granger?"

"What?"

"Has he upset you?"

"No."

"You don't seem to be your usual self this morning."

"And what is my usual self, Mr Malfoy?"

He opened his mouth to speak but merely averted his gaze and shrugged a little, feigning casual indifference.

"I need to stay here while Hook is here at least, you know. Until we've established what happens with the magic."

"Of course."

"Right."

She turned to go again.

"Miss Granger?"

"Yes?"

"Have _I _upset you?"

His words were so shocking in their sudden transparency that they sent her crashing back to their early days together of conversation and tea. _For a moment she almost wanted to ..._

But Hermione's pride forced her to bite back the surge of emotion rising through her. "Of course not, Mr Malfoy. I hardly have anything to do with you. You don't give me the time to upset me." She turned and left him alone in the corridor.

-xxoOoxx-

Once her swell of feeling had subsided somewhat, and her need to research returned, Hermione went to find Hook again at lunchtime. She was assiduous in her detailing of everything he did, from what he ate, to his energy levels and his mood. (All seemed completely normal.) He had set aside the blatant seduction for now and was instead the height of gentlemanly tact and discreet flattery. She could not help but allow it to influence her. He seemed to know exactly how to treat her to get the perfect response.

In the afternoon they started together for the walk on the soft hills above the Manor, where the fresh autumnal air blew burnished leaves and concerns away. Hook was wearing a long coat, full-length, made of a dark waxy leather. It tapered a little at the waist before flaring out with swathes of material which swayed as he moved, and was finished with heavy ebony buttons running along the length of it. He had it open and strode forward with steady conviction. It made her want to touch him more than ever.

"So tell me – how does a pirate get to be so charming?" she inquired of him, the sardonic intention not as clear as it could have been.

"Charming? You are too kind."

"You know exactly what I mean, James."

"One has to have a certain amount of guile to ... get one's way. It is occasionally easier to sweet talk one's adversaries into submission than to blow their scrawny backsides into the hereafter."

She laughed. "Not all pirates were villainous murderers, you know. Many had the full sanction of their queen and country: Sir Francis Drake, for instance."

"He was a favourite of hers, I believe."

"One of them."

"No lady can resist a rogue."

"A rogue? Are you a rogue, James Hook?"

"Of course. A rogue, a villain and a murderer."

"Only in my imagination."

"So that is why you allow yourself to talk to me?"

"Probably. Not all pirates killed though. Blackbeard, for instance. Apparently he went to great lengths not to take people's lives."

"Ay. And look what happened to him: hacked to pieces and his head hung from the yard-arm. I was his bos'un for a time."

"I'd forgotten that." Her feet brushed through the crisping leaves.

"So you don't know everything about me then," he teased.

"I know you went to Eton."

"I did indeed."

"And Oxford."

"For some time - Balliol."

"Were you sent down?" She dug her hands deep in her pockets.

"One does not ask a gentleman such questions." She smiled to herself.

"Were your school days happy ones?"

"Yes. Predominantly."

"Happier than days at home?"

'What a prying little mind it is. As I am sure you know, Miss Granger, children like stability and continuity; Eton provided that."

"So what went wrong?"

"Wrong?"

"I shouldn't imagine there are many Eton scholars who end up pirates."

"You yourself seem to admire privateers. Francis Drake, as you said – a national treasure."

"Would you have liked to be a national treasure?"

"Of course."

"So why go to Neverland?"

He stopped briefly and looked back over the dip the Manor nestled in. "You've read the book – you tell me."

"It doesn't say in the book." She stood beside him, his potent aroma mingling with the smoky breeze of autumn. "And what about women?"

"Women?"

"There is little mention of there being women in Neverland."

"There aren't."

"So ...?"

"So what?"

"Well, unless you developed a special relationship with your crew ..."

"Are you suggesting I ...?" He turned to her, genuinely affronted.

"No ... although I wouldn't judge you if you had."

"More enlightened times, Hermione?"

"Certainly," she smirked.

"I attended Eton," he talked softly, conjuring up memories. "There were occasions of – experimentation – amongst my contemporaries, but I never had the desire or need to join them. I came quite early to a full realisation of where to seek the most satisfaction in life. My desires settled wholly on the side of the fairer sex." Hook's eyes creased with alarm. "Devil's ganglions, woman! How do you succeed in getting such personal information from me?"

She chuckled. "Sign of the times, James ... I'm very open to talking about ... intimate matters."

"Yes ... you certainly are." His frown melted into a smirk. "And what about ... _engaging_ in intimate matters?"

Hermione smiled, held again in his eyes. Hook stepped in, his breath clouding lightly between them. Slowly, he reached up with his hook and brushed away some stray hairs from her face. She was biting the plump flesh of her lower lip with the neatest little teeth he had ever seen. He stepped in, closer yet.

"Come along. I'm getting chilly. It's time to get back." Hermione pulled back from his imminent touch. Before he could stop her, she had taken several long steps down the hill.

James Hook stared after her, clawing back his raging desire. Miss Granger may pour herself into those breeches, but that wasn't the only thing she was keeping tightly restrained. Patience was not a quality with which he was well-endowed. For once in his life, he may actually have to work a little.

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><p><strong>Miss Granger seems to be playing hard to get.<strong>

**Don't worry - she won't play that hard. And, anyway, I should imagine Hook rather enjoys the chase. And what of Lucius ...?**

**Love your thoughts. LL x**


	6. Chapter 6

**I know what you're all waiting for. Bear in mind that it has only actually been just over a day since Hook arrived, so ... we need to give Hermione a bit of dignity. Just a little, surely. Trouble is, he is so very very ... _entrancing,_** **in so many ways,** **as this chapter shows.**

**And Lucius? Oh, I haven't forgotten about him. How could I? It's me! Thanks for the great response to this story. I am so glad you are all enjoying it. I wasn't sure how a 'crossover' (although I'm reluctant to call it that) would be received. I am enjoying writing this more than just about anything else I have written recently and LOVE reading your comments. LL x**

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><p>Malfoy Manor had what, in the past, would have been called a ballroom. It was the largest space in the house although had not been used for its original purpose for generations. It was located on the side of the house Hermione never frequented. Her time was spent between the library, her rooms, the kitchen and the Red Room (and she had been there only rarely since her incident with Lucius.) But this morning, the day after her walk with Hook, while searching for some parchment, she had been told to look in a room along the corridor where it was located. As she made her way her progress was halted by a sharp clattering noise.<p>

Behind the door of the ballroom there was a sword fight going on. The loud clashing of metal was punctuated by the occasional cry or groan which rose from the guttural throat of man.

Hermione's heart caught in her mouth.

_Shit._ She had thought Hook and Lucius were getting on.

With blood pounding through her body and a sinking dread at what she would discover, she threw back the door and rushed inside.

Immediately her fears subsided, but if anything the mad race of blood round her body grew ever more frantic.

In the vast open space of the ballroom there was what appeared to be some sort of mannequin, faceless, made of stuffed sacking. It had a barely human form, but what it lacked in physiognomy it made up for in enchantment. It had clearly been bewitched to move, and clasped in the dense fabric of what was supposedly its hand it gripped a sabre. It moved and parried and lunged against its adversary, who was clearly proving a more than worthy opponent. Hermione looked to the man it was fighting.

"Hermione! You catch me at a crucial moment!" he cried exultantly. "Will you watch a while?"

Captain James Hook was slicing and plunging his sword against his foe with the grace of a dancer, albeit an extremely manly one.

But if his sword play was an elegant display of expertise, in itself it only held Hermione's attention for a moment. Her eyes were more transfixed on what Hook was wearing, or rather, what he was not wearing.

On his feet were his boots, those rich black leather boots which rose up beyond his knees. Above these were dark hide breeches, more informal than those he usually wore. And that was it.

His shirt lay discarded on the floor to one side. Apart from the harness which held his hook in place, his top half was completely naked.

Hermione knew she was staring. How could she not? As he moved, the muscles on his torso and arm swelled and rippled, never grotesquely pronounced, but smooth and toned, with sinuous definition. He had the perfect body. _Of course he did. She had created him._ His skin was the colour of olive wood, lightly tanned from his time under the hot sun which scorched the waters of Neverland.

Hook continued to concentrate hard on his fight. His feet moved and danced, lightly and with agile grace, evading the thrust of his foe's sabre, darting to a better position, shifting forward quickly before spinning to block with his sword held high. The exertion had resulted in a beading glow of sweat glistening over all his exposed flesh. His hair was held back in a loose ribbon, and the strands which had escaped clung damp and dark to his heated face.

Hermione was hypnotised. She had never seen such raw masculine beauty.

And then, with a roar which rose from the core of his tight abdomen, Hook lunged forward, once, then twice, breaking through his opponent's defences, and with a final surge, he plunged his sword deep into what would have been its belly. The mannequin immediately succumbed, its magic seeped from it and it sagged, becoming lifeless, the sword clattering noisily to the floor.

Hook reared up triumphant, his breath pulled in hard through flaring nostrils. Panting, he strode over and kicked what was left of the thing with his booted foot. "Not bad for a bag of stuffing. Gave me a good fight. Still, it was only a matter of time. I win. I always do. Apart from ..." He sneered, omitting the name of the one foe he had never been able to defeat.

Turning to Hermione, his face set with a glow of haughty exhilaration, he grinned. "Didst thou enjoy that, my beauty?"

"Yes." She could barely form words, and his archaic language entranced her even more.

Hook chuckled and began a steady pace across to her, his sculpted chest still rising and falling rapidly due to his exertions.

His skin glowed with an almost supernatural radiance, the flesh so succulent she had to force herself not to reach out and touch it. She wanted him so much it hurt, but an odd sensation was twisting inside her: she almost felt unworthy. Despite his maimed arm, which in itself was a fascination, she had never known such a wondrous representation of man. Her man.

She distracted herself by speaking, indicating the lifeless mannequin. "How did you get that to move?"

"Malfoy enchanted it for me before he went out. It was a shame he couldn't continue himself, but this fellow proved more than adequate."

"What do you mean he couldn't continue?"

"I had a bout with Malfoy earlier."

"With Lucius? I didn't know he fenced."

"Oh yes. Damned good swordsman too. Still ... needed to be taught a thing or two."

Hermione swallowed hard. She glanced over to the space where Hook had been fighting and saw in her mind's eye the pirate fighting another opponent. This time his foe had blond hair flying as he parried and sliced. This man also had removed his shirt and was just as mesmerising in his sculpted, pale beauty.

She shook the vision from her head. "Right. I see. I'll sort some food and drink out."

"There is no rush ... Hermione." Hook spoke her name with such soft affection her belly rippled. Her eyes dropped to his torso again, taking in the swell of his pectoral muscles dusted with the finest black hairs, the tight little nipples perched so perfectly on the dip down.

James had stopped short of doing up his shirt. It hung open around him. He crossed to the sabres left on the floor and picked them up, inspecting them with a sharp eye and wiping them clean.

"I don't think we quite finished our conversation yesterday, Hermione."

"How do you mean?"

"You asked me how I satisfy my needs if there are no women in Neverland."

"Hmm."

"Don't you want an answer?" He glanced across to her with a teasing smile.

"Go on then."

"I have a ship. It can sail, as is usually the case with such a vessel."

"But there is little mention of you leaving Neverland. You seem intent on staying to defeat Pan."

"True. Another reason why I detest the little oik – he diverts me from more ... pleasurable pastimes."

"But when you do sail ...?"

"The world is a big place, and I have seen much of it. I cannot provide you with a list, I'm afraid. That may take some time and I doubt I would recall the names of ... very many."

"Did they know who you were? Or rather _what_ you were?"

"Oh yes."

"And still they let you ..."

"Let me ...?"

"Seduce them."

"Is that what you wish to call it?" he smirked. "I find the art of _seduction _comes quite easily to me, Hermione. Perhaps you can tell me ... why is that?"

"What?"

"Why do women succumb so _willingly_ to me?" He had put the sabres away and now glanced over to her again.

"How am I supposed to know?"

"Oh ... I think you do."

Hermione looked steadily at the man. He was here for _her_. She had brought him to her. Her mind filled with images and hopes which had tormented her for years: the things she wanted to do to this man, the things she _could_ do to this man. Why was she hesitating? She did not think she had ever wanted anything so much.

Hook faced her, standing erect. "Tell me, Hermione. I want to hear it. I want to hear it from you."

"Well ... you're ... tall ..." He started to walk towards her now, his shirt fluttering open and making the glimpse of warm flesh ever more inviting.

"Hmm ... And ...?"

"You have lots of ... hair ..." She was fumbling for words.

"Is that a good thing?"

"It can be."

"And?"

"You ... dress quite well."

_Slow steady steps. Ever closer._

"Thank you. One does try."

"You have ... quite a firm ... umm ... physique." The physique in question was approaching ever nearer.

"Physique?"

"You know ... musculature, torso ... body ..."

He pouted with exaggerated concurring self-sympathy. "Being at sea is very hard. Arduous, strenuous ... lots of sweat and strain."

"And ..."

"Yes?"

_Closer. She could almost touch._

"You have ... eyes."

"I have eyes?"

"Yes."

"In my experience, that applies to the majority of the human race." The eyes were dancing, the voice was smooth and teasing.

"Yes."

_Closer._

"Therefore ... what makes my eyes any different to anyone else's?"

"They're ... a nice ... colour."

"Are they?"

"Yes."

"What colour would that be?"

"Blue."

_So close now. Eyes only for her._

"Blue ..."

"Blue like ... forget-me-nots."

"Forget-me-nots?"

"Yes."

_Just a sliver of breath away._

"Forget … me … _not _..."

"Miss. Sir. Master Lucius told me to inform you that there is tea in the Red Room. He is waiting."

Hermione looked down to see Pascoe behind her. Her flesh groaned with frustration. Hook did not move, but neither did the elf, who stood waiting obstinately by their side. His presence was enough to evaporate the sweat of desire.

"Thank you, Pascoe." Hermione slipped away, and was gone.

If Pascoe hadn't been quick on his feet, he would have found himself with a four inch curve of iron embedded in his spleen.

-xxoOoxx—

Hermione didn't say much over tea. James and Lucius did.

After only a few minutes she grew fed up with the atmosphere of macho conviviality, and especially what seemed to her to be the affected appreciation of Hook by Lucius, and slid out of the room, unnoticed as far as she was concerned.

She had completed her work for the day. It had started to rain outside. Up in her room, Hermione fell onto the bed.

_What was a girl to do?_

It didn't take long to think of something. Her body guided her, her mind still full of the image of James Hook, semi-naked, thrusting and plunging with his sabre.

With nimble fingers and an ardent imagination, Hermione brought herself to a powerful orgasm within a few minutes.

The object of her fantasy was downstairs; why the hell wasn't he here with her, now? Why wasn't it his fingers, his body ... his cock ... filling the emptiness inside?

Hermione rose swiftly and showered. Her self-imposed abstinence was ludicrous. As the water from the shower washed her body clean, it also took with it some of the tight control she had been insisting on too long.

-xxoOoxx-

It had been over two hours since she had left the two men together. But as soon as she opened the door to her room she could smell the cigar smoke. Her nose wrinkled. She tried hard to be tolerant, but the cloying smell of confined tobacco smoke always turned her stomach. The faint pipe smoke she associated with Hook was different to this. This was omnipresent, inescapable, and reminded her of the enforced trips to her chain-smoking great-aunt when she was a child, held captive in a cloud of acrid cigarette smoke which dirtied the already vile flock wallpapered lounge. Hermione would sit, perched on the edge of the browning settee, staring at the damp jammy dodgers and the balding budgie who was surely as riddled as its owner with the cancer her great-aunt would later die of.

She hesitated. She had not seen Hook smoking yet, although he obviously did. She couldn't believe Lucius was tolerating it. She had been impressed that he seemed to share her feelings on the matter. When a business associate had called at the manor once, Lucius had practically thrown him out when he had dared light up inside.

Sweeping down the stairs, she opened the door to the Red Room. Immediately, she was engulfed in the thick swirl of cigar smoke. She did not need to pretend to cough indignantly; her lungs caught and she spluttered out the tickle which immediately held her throat.

Glancing up, her eyes widened in shock.

Hook reclined on the sofa, a large cigar bitten between his teeth. She turned to Lucius, half-expecting him to have left the room.

He had not. Sitting, legs crossed, he looked up at her. In one hand he had a glass of brandy, in the other, a lit cigar. As she stared at him, he brought it to his lips, narrowed his eyes, pulled hard on it, and blew the smoke out so that it billowed straight towards her.

"Ah! We were wondering if we should come looking for you, Hermione. We've missed you, haven't we, Malfoy? What the devil have you been doing with yourself?"

She tore her eyes away from Lucius and looked at Hook. From the smirk on his face, it seemed as if he knew exactly what she'd been doing with herself.

"Nothing much. I just, umm ... came to see what you were doing, but I see you're ... fine. I'll, umm, leave you to it."

"It's getting late. Go and see Pascoe about dinner, will you?" Lucius spoke flatly.

"Excuse me!"

"I think he mentioned mussels. Go and see if he's getting on with it, if you will."

Her face twisted in livid anger and her words hurled themselves across to him. "No! I won't! As you said yourself, Mr Malfoy – I have no jurisdiction in this house. It's your bloody elf, it's your bloody house, they're your bloody mussels – go and do it yourself!"

Flying from the room so hard her hair whipped into her eyes, Hermione threw herself down the corridor. There were footsteps following almost immediately.

"Miss Granger. For Merlin's sake, Miss Granger!"

She turned to find Lucius practically running after her.

She didn't care that she was in his house. She didn't care that he had been a Death Eater, that he had more money than she would earn in ten lifetimes, that he had been one of the most intimidating men she had encountered in her youth. Her anger erupted from her. "Don't you _ever_ speak to me in that way again! Who the hell do you think you are, Malfoy?"

"Calm down." He seemed remarkably restrained, concerned even. "I didn't mean it like that. You were on your feet; I wasn't. I thought it would be sensible to ask you."

"You didn't ask me. You told me."

"Miss Granger ..." It was clear he didn't know what to say. She stood, arms crossed. He was still holding the cigar in his hand and turned away from her a little before taking a furtive puff at it.

"And I didn't know you smoked."

His eyes shifted awkwardly. She was enjoying her power over him. He looked at the cigar as if he was surprised to see it there. "Hm ... well ... there we are."

"I remember someone - some business friend of yours - came to the house once after we'd been ... talking one day." She looked away at the memory. "I was still in the room when he arrived. He asked if he could light up. You said no – that you didn't allow smoking in the house, that you hated it."

"Did I?"

"Yes."

"I don't remember that."

"I do."

"Well, the occasional cigar goes down rather well."

"Does it really?"

"Hm." He couldn't look at her.

"You don't look as if you're enjoying it very much." No response. "And it stinks the house out."

This time he glared at her with distaste. "Did you always have such a way with words, Miss Granger?"

"I hate smoking." She paused. "And I don't find it remotely attractive."

His eyes flickered momentarily and he opened his mouth as if to retort, but nothing at first came out.

"Oh," was all he could eventually manage, his eyebrows up as if searching for more words. "Hook smokes."

It was her turn to shift uncomfortably. "Well, it …"

"What?"

"Men always smoked in his day. It isn't something I can object to in him. And it … just seems to be a part of his character."

"But not part of my character?"

"Well, he _is _a character and as such his persona smokes. You're not a character. You're a real person."

He smirked, his next words as snide as ever. "You noticed." Lucius stepped into her suddenly, his nostrils flaring. He had at last rediscovered his indignation and hissed, "I don't see why it should be acceptable in him and not me. In fact, I don't see why I should care less what you find acceptable or not! I can do what I bloody well want to in my own home."

"Fine!" she retorted with a defiant stare. "I just don't want it getting into my clothes."

"_He_ smokes near you."

"I've told you about that already."

"It will still 'get into your clothes'. Or is his ... _fictional _smoke?"

"Don't be so stupid!"

"Stupid? You're the one making no sense at all."

Hermione huffed, struggling against the obvious juvenility of their argument. "Do what you bloody well want to then!" She searched his eyes, her own darting rapid and cold. "I just don't see why you're so desperate to seek his approval, that's all."

He leaned back, sneering with annoyance. "I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I am not."

"Fencing ... smoking ... you never did those things before."

"I have always fenced. Purebloods are taught fencing – it is considered a noble pursuit."

"Oh, please, don't make me sick," she scoffed.

His lips tensed in anger. "Don't test me, Miss Granger. You, and your little nautical fantasy, are guests in my house."

"You remind me of that with remarkably frequency."

He stood, rigid, tall and tight, in the dim light of the corridor, but still she did not fear him. Hermione's body was as tense as his. A thrill of excitement coursed through her as their verbal sparring continued. Malfoy spoke with cold resentment. "I have treated you fairly and well since being here and have asked for nothing in return."

"The Ministry is paying you; I know that."

"Nothing from _you_. I have asked for nothing from _you."_

She spoke quickly in retort. "What could I give you anyway, Mr Malfoy, that you could possibly want?"

He froze, his head turning from her. She swallowed hard. The air fell silent around them.

"Leave me alone. Go back to your ... _pirate."_

"He's not _my _pirate, Lucius." _Why had she used his first name?_

"You wish he was."

_Did he care?_

"Oh, stop it. He won't be here for much longer."

He fixed his grey eyes into hers. "You'd better hurry up and get on with it then."

Hermione bristled, her rage flying through her. "Fine! Maybe I bloody well will! And you can get on with your fencing and your smoking and all your other noble fucking pursuits!"

She started to walk past him.

"Just as you don't find smoking attractive, Miss Granger, I don't find a woman swearing attractive."

She turned back with a sneer. "And how is that supposed to bother me?"

"I don't imagine you swear in front of him."

"He gives me no reason to."

Malfoy stepped up to her, his breathing hard. His physical presence was as overwhelming as Hook's had been earlier. Hermione fought against it.

"I may find the man interesting, but you'd best beware, Miss Granger. The slightest disagreement and he'd murder us all in our beds."

"I doubt that."

"I don't."

"What? So it's a question of keeping your enemies close, is it?"

His eyes narrowed and his voice dropped low and silky. "You really are being thoroughly unpleasant today, Miss Granger."

"And you really do come out with some complete bollocks, Mr Malfoy."

His nostrils flared. "Perhaps we should end this conversation before ..."

"Before what?"

Lucius glared at her before averting his eyes. "Never mind." He brought the cigar to his mouth again.

But Hermione could never settle for a draw.

"Well, just to let you know that puffing away on that ridiculous thing makes you look like a pretentious wanker. But then, come to think of it, that's probably exactly the image you're trying to cultivate."

And she walked off.

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><p><strong>Dontcha just love a good argument?<strong>

**Oh dear, we're all a bit confused, aren't we? All that passion needs an outlet. There's a very obvious one, Hermione ... **

**Still love your comments. LL x**


	7. Chapter 7

**Oh, you have been a patient lot. ****As ever, thank you for the lovely, insightful reviews. **

**I loved writing this chapter ... for a variety of reasons. I find Hook a fascinating character - truly a very complex human being, even presented in what is supposedly a children's book (the original, not mine!); he just makes you wonder about what went before. This chapter makes reference not only to the book but to the 2003 film.**

**As I said, you have been patient. I hope the wait is worth it. Enjoy. LL x**

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><p>She did go to dinner. And it was mussels.<p>

Hermione and Lucius refused to look at one another. It didn't matter. Hook kept up a running monologue, although he glanced from one to the other occasionally, that amused smile on his face.

After dinner, only Hook lit up a cigar.

Despite the pungent aroma, despite her quarrel with Lucius, Hermione found her eyes inextricably drawn to the pirate. He talked with spellbinding passion about his exploits in the Southern Ocean, about daring raids on far-off ports which had required dangerous and highly complicated escape tactics. He spoke of nights at sea when the wind raged so fiercely and the ship pitched so violently that all were sure she would go down, when the only person brave enough to climb to the top of the mizzen and lash the sail would be the captain himself. She saw him in her mind's eye, his hair blowing wildly, icy rain biting into his beautiful face, his throat bitter from roaring commands to those less courageous than himself from the top of the mast.

As he spoke, he would fix his eyes into the middle distance and a look of peaceful calm would descend on him, even when describing moments of great danger. Hermione smiled. This man did not belong on land, she knew that, but while he was here, he captivated her completely. Her quarrel of earlier was forgotten, and she listened only to the ribbon of tales unwound by the dark-haired man before her.

At length his words drifted off as if they too were sailing into a distant sea. He closed his eyes, his cigar long exhausted.

"You are a wonderful storyteller."

He smirked, his eyes still closed.

"You should write those down, Hook. Make some money from them," drawled Lucius.

Hermione glared at the blond man. "Is that all you can think of – money?"

He frowned in confusion. "What? I was simply pointing out that a lot of people would be interested in hearing those stories."

"You didn't put it like that. After a wonderful evening of hearing James' tales, you have to reduce it to the banal of money! But then, I would expect no less." She stood up, irate again.

Lucius rose too, striding over to her so fast she took a step back. His body was rigid, but his words were as controlled and smooth as ever. His dignified indignation made her even more uncomfortable.

"Once again you have shown how little you understand me, Miss Granger. Quite frankly, it is becoming rather tiresome. It's late. If you cannot find anything pleasant to say, perhaps you should go to bed."

She stared hard at him, looking from one grey eye to the other, for once at a loss for words. Something inside was hurting so much she felt her eyes prickling.

"Right. I see. Good night, James. Thank you for your company and your stories. I ... I'll see you in the morning." And with that she rushed from the room.

Lucius stood rigid for a moment, staring after her. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he crossed to the decanters.

"For two people who are supposedly indifferent to each other, you two certainly make for diverting entertainment." Hook chuckled.

"I don't know what the hell's got into her recently. She's infuriating me. She's so ..."

"... in need of damned good rogering." Hook finished his sentence for him with a grin.

Lucius grimaced. "And she thinks _I _reduce everything to the banal?"

"It is true, however. Are you still sure you wouldn't care to oblige?"

Lucius threw a swig of brandy down his throat. "Yes. Good night, Hook. I'm going. I shan't be here in the morning - business. Somebody has to make some money round here."

Hook raised his glass to him. "Good night, Malfoy. Thank you for such a very fascinating evening." He smirked. Lucius did not return it, and left the room with a brief nod.

-xxoOoxx-

Was Hermione surprised to find she had been crying? As she rushed up the stairs, she had again been so furious with Lucius that she hadn't been aware of it. Once in her room she had shut the door hard and flung herself onto the bed. It was only then that she realised her face was wet and her eyes stung. She sat up, ashamed at her reaction, ashamed at her temper.

It was as she was reaching for a tissue that there was a gentle knock at her door. With a huff she got up. It was most likely one of the house elves bringing her some bottled water; she normally took some up with her.

Hermione opened the door. James Hook was standing outside, his hand leaning high on the door frame, his lips curled slightly but his brows set in a mild furrow of concern.

"Hermione. You left so quickly. I was concerned for you."

"I'm fine. Thank you." She struggled to compose herself.

"You've been crying."

"No. I'm just ..."

"You don't need to hide from me, my dear. I see more than you realise."

"James, really, I just ..."

"I think you would benefit from some company." He looked nowhere but at her. "May I come in?"

"Here?"

"Yes."

She crossed her arms in admonishment. "I thought gentlemen weren't supposed to invite themselves into ladies' bedrooms."

"Only when the lady is in clear need."

"And what am I in need of, Captain?"

He smiled, his eyes still holding her. "If you let me in ... I'll tell you."

She sighed. He was fine enough dressed in his waistcoat and white shirt, but she couldn't help but fix her eyes on the morsel of exposed flesh visible through the open neck, reminding her of what she had seen earlier in the ballroom. Her mind was as heated as her body. Something had to give.

She held the door open and he stepped inside. Hermione closed it tight behind them.

"A delightful room. And a very large bed. All for one? You must get lonely."

She grinned at his blatant flirtation. "You are a devil."

"Thank you."

"And a conundrum." She sat on the bed and did not object when he placed himself beside her.

"How is that?"

"Those stories you told earlier, the way you treat me, the way you speak to me ... it doesn't tally with the cold-hearted villain."

"I find a little paradox in life makes things rather more stimulating."

She laughed. "I agree."

"You are no less of a conundrum, Hermione."

She was unable to disagree.

"You remind me of a girl I once knew ... a mere child," he continued.

Hermione looked carefully at him.

"Tell me about her."

Hook turned away from her, his eyes creasing as if recalling a time long distant. "She was a fascinating child ... remarkable in her wit and intelligence and thirst for ... adventure. And she told the most marvellous stories. How can one not admire one who spins tales so captivating and exhilarating that one feels transported to the very place they are detailing?"

Hermione smiled. That was exactly how she felt about him. She knew who he was talking about but prompted him, wanting to hear his thoughts.

"How old was she?"

"I cannot be sure ... eleven, twelve ... on the cusp of imprisonment."

"How do you mean? Did you hold her captive?"

"I did, come to think of it, but only for a moment. But that is not what I meant. No. Time was approaching to hold her prisoner. As it does to us all. We are free for those first years of our life – free from the conscience of care and ... responsibility. And then, after thirteen or so years comes Time with his chains and his fetters, to ensnare us, to pull us into his prison cell where he stands in attendance over us, and we must try to dance for him while he adds more and more weight to the shackles which bind us."

"James ..."

"It is a glorious time ... that golden time before a child's body changes. Never do you feel more alive, more ... immortal." He looked to her suddenly. "Do you sing, Hermione?"

She laughed, confused and embarrassed by his question. "A little. Only in the shower, really."

"A girl has other problems thrown at her at this time, but for a boy, one of the most curious, and revealing, is the change in his voice. I used to sing. As a boy. By all accounts, I was very good. My mother wished me to sing in the Chapel Royal at St James' Palace but my father had no time for such 'aesthetic frivolities', as he called them."

Although he was sitting beside her, at that moment Hermione barely felt she could reach him; his eyes were misted with a thwarted past. _Paradox._

"There comes a time with a boy's voice, just before the change, when the sound is at its most captivating, most transcendental. A most curious thing, as it is also that time when it is most fragile, and threatens to fall forever. It will toy with the boy, cracking and leaping about, but when it chooses to play ... ah! It is the sound of the angels themselves. Perhaps the boy is indeed an angel, sent from heaven, allowed to canter chaotic and carefree on earth in those last few glorious moments before Time ensnares him too. Transcendent beauty and fragility captured in one instant. Then gone."

"What happened to the girl?" She knew the tale so well but was curious to hear it from him.

"I invited her to join me at sea. Not sincerely, or so I thought. I simply wished to use her to get to ... _him_. But ... if she had said yes ... she would have made a good pirate, I believe. And we would have enjoyed her stories. My crew liked her ... she liked them, some of them ... Smee ... everyone likes Smee. But ... we would have cared for her, and she for us. I know it.' His eyes were staring beyond Hermione and his voice was achingly wistful. Hermione felt a tug at her soul. He had been so alone. Alone with his intelligence and disappointment and frustration. 'And when the time was right, she would have become a beauty, I know ... like you ... you have the same mouth ... Hermione. I remember well. But, alas, as ever ... she chose him."

"Peter?"

He grimaced.

"His voice never changed."

"No."

"And that is why you hate him."

"I hate him because he is an arrogant little clodhopper with dirty toes, dirty fingers, and all the dirty secrets of the island at his disposal."

"And he had her."

"Yes. Not that it was her specifically I wanted, not then at any rate. She was, as I said, a mere child, but ... it would have been nice to have had companionship ... someone ... and she would have grown up ... rather marvellously, I warrant."

"What was her name?"

"Her name?" For a moment it seemed he could barely remember. "Her name was ... Wendy."

"And what happened to her?"

He pouted, recalling his actions dispassionately. "I tried to kill her."

"Not the way to endear someone to you."

"Subtlety is not my strong point. But I failed. A practice at which I seem to be very adept. And then she returned whence she had come. And grew up ... away from Pan ... and away from me."

The ache of his conversation was almost too much. He seemed to sense it and looked at her, his eyes brighter again. Hermione spoke smoothly, steering things away from him which she suspected he was silently grateful for.

"I'm rather happy I grew up. My childhood was interesting, my adolescence ... busy."

"You have history with Malfoy, I presume, beyond working with him now."

"Yes."

"Going back to your childhood?"

"Yes. I was at school with his son."

"Was that a good thing?"

"The school or the son?"

"The son."

"No. He was vile."

"And you have transferred those emotions onto his father?"

"No, Lucius was evil in his own right."

"But not vile?"

"Isn't being evil bad enough?"

"I am evil. And yet you are happy to sit and talk to me."

"I sit and talk to him. Well, I used to. Quite often."

"But you berate yourself for it. You try your hardest not to enjoy it."

"Lucius is not a good man. He has killed people."

"So have I."

"Yes, but you're ..."

"I'm ...?"

"You're not re ..." She changed tack. "I created you."

"Did you now?"

She dropped her head with a smirk.

He reached across and drew his finger momentarily under her chin, lifting her head. She rose swiftly and crossed to the window. His words followed her.

"Why do you deny yourself pleasure, Hermione?"

"I don't. What do you mean?"

"I see before me a beautiful woman full of vitality and passion, and yet you keep it so tightly reined in it is choking you."

"I ... no ... really, I ..." She could hear him approaching slowly behind her.

"You must allow yourself to live ... to desire ..."

"I do desire ... you know that." She spun around and gasped. He was close to her now, so close that she could see each individual hair on his chin, feel the soft, hot falls of breath as they escaped him. His eyes stared down at her, as blue as she had dared imagine. In them she saw all her dreams, all her imaginings, encapsulated in the purest illumination.

"How, Hermione ... how do I know that?"

"Because ..." The truth was so obvious in his eyes she could only voice it. "I desire you ..."

He had brought up his hook to push a strand of hair off her shoulder and allowed his eyes to drop to follow its progress.

"How can that be?"

"I don't understand." She almost sobbed. The tension inside her whined at the denial of his touch. Her chest ached with frustration, trying to relieve it by sucking in air in gulps of desperation.

"You say it yourself ... I am not real." He leaned in, but still held himself a whisper away from a touch.

"You're here now."

"Is that enough?" It was murmured soft against her ear. His hair fell across her cheek, the softest tease. It smelt of that same sweet vanilla which had entranced her from the beginning. This man could be exactly who she wanted him to be. _Man._ With him, now, it was so easy. So easy and so good.

"Yes."

"But I must go back. You know that."

Her hands came up, searching, but not quite touching. His shirt sat before her, the top two buttons undone, revealing the dark hairs beneath shading the rise of his torso. "Don't go," she murmured. "Don't leave me. I have dreamed of you … for so long … I have wanted you ... I want you now ..."

He hovered, a mere breath from her, his lips moist with enticement, his eyes prancing over her face.

"Show me."

Her lips came up and touched his. That was all. It was only a slight touch. James Hook would have liked more, but it was all the affirmation he needed. In the next moment he had her head hard in his hand and had plunged his desperate mouth down onto hers. It took little for her then to open to him. He was searching for her acceptance, for her desire, and he found it. She gave his searching tongue her own and tasted blood as his teeth dug into the pulpy flesh of her lips. He was kissing her so violently that she staggered back and was held up only by the firm grip he still had on her head. Her arms flailed at her sides, still amazed at the events which were overtaking her.

And then she relented. He was Desire. She had brought him to her. And she would have him.

Days, months of restraint and inhibition were thrown off in a few seconds of Man upon her. If he wanted her to show him, she would do it, she would do it all.

Her hands at last found purchase on his shirt and she fumbled for the buttons, undoing the rest through gasping breaths and snatched kisses.

"Yes, yes, you beauty ... that's it, that's the way ... show me all you can be."

As soon as the last button fell from the eye, she pushed his shirt off his shoulders, dragging the sleeve past the glinting metal of his hook. "Careful ... it's sharp." He raised a wry eyebrow.

Hermione merely smiled, and pulling the shining steel up towards her, she leaned into it, and with sensual deliberation, licked along the flat of it with a long sweep of her tongue.

"That's more like it, my girl."

Hermione applied herself to undoing her own buttons. Hook's eyes lit up as her pale skin was revealed to him little by little.

"Can't you use magic to rid yourself of those?" he muttered, transfixed by the sight before him.

"I could ... but where would be the fun in that?"

He smirked. "Quite so."

Her shirt was off soon enough, revealing the pink and black satin bra which encased her ripe breasts. Hook shall be allowed a momentary lapse of concentration; he had never before seen a bra.

"My my ... how times have changed. Little left to the imagination I see ... not that that is an impediment."

Hermione turned for him, dragging the straps partially down her shoulders – she was used to lovers undoing her bra clasp deftly. She forgot for an instant that this particular lover had only one hand.

Hook stared at the fastening in bewilderment, but, never one to be thwarted; he set about fumbling over the metal clasp. Hermione's head fell back in delirious expectation, causing his efforts to be further hindered by copious amounts of hair falling across his fingers.

"Damn it to hell!"

With a slice and a snap, Hermione felt herself freed from the bra. It fell to the ground. He had cut clean through it with his hook.

After a soft laugh of delight, she tensed, not allowing herself to turn around. She felt the man behind her move. With silent footsteps thick with erotic menace, he paced around to stand before her. His eyes lingered on her face for the merest moment before dropping to take in the vision of her naked breasts before him.

His eyebrows rose up with satisfaction and she heard the soft sigh escape him. "Now there's a wonder."

With almost reverent silence, his hand came up and gently cupped her right breast, feeling it full and expectant in his hand. His thumb brushed the nipple, causing it to harden and swell immediately under his touch. Hermione brought her hands up, slipping her thumbs through the sensitive fine hairs around his temples and pulled his head in to kiss him, gentle and sweet compared to the passion of earlier. And then she brought him down and when his questing mouth closed around her ever-tightening nipple, she banished any doubts for good.

If James Hook had a weakness with women, it was the feel of a nipple hardening and dancing on his tongue. He could stay at a breast for an age, the comfort of the pillowy flesh, the tight nub craving his lips and tongue ... when all else in life failed, as it invariably did, he could always return to the bliss of a woman's nurturing comfort.

"More ... harder ..." His ears strained to catch her words. Hook moved to the other breast and applied himself more fervently to his task, tugging and pulling, his teeth catching the hard flesh with an occasional sharp nip. "Yes!" Her need surprised him, but with it he was reminded of his own. His groin groaned. He was still constrained tightly in his breeches and his hand instinctively dropped to release himself.

He felt other hands there. Hermione was desperate to see him and pulled back suddenly to concentrate on undoing the lacings which kept him from her. Her sudden jolt back caused a pang of loss as her delicious nipple popped from his mouth.

The immediate desolation was just as swiftly cast aside, however, as he leapt large and proud from his breeches, free at last.

Hermione glanced down, her mouth forming immediately into a broad grin of delight. It wasn't just the size of his hook which was impressive. She glanced back up at him and whispered, teasing and sensuous, "Now there's a wonder."

Warm hands enveloped him, sliding along the rigid shaft, running lightly over the tip. Hook groaned. He could not remember a woman ever being so forward. Perhaps the passage of time had its merits after all.

Hermione continued to ply and rub the shaft. He was leaking unstoppably onto her palm now, but she only used the moisture to ease her progress up and down, up and down. His breath came fast and furious into her hair as she rested against his neck. "Damnation, woman! You are too much."

"You wanted me to show you. Do you believe me now?"

"Yes, yes! You are incredible. I will do anything, anything for you ... tell me, tell me, Hermione ... tell me what you want."

She fell back upon the bed, her arms stretching into the silks around her, her legs spreading invitingly.

"I want you to fuck me."

Despite the fury of his erection dictating his every move, Hook stopped momentarily.

"Now there's a word one does not hear very often from a lady."

Hermione groaned, arching her back off the bed, cupping her breasts towards him. "Then perhaps I am not a lady."

"Oh yes, my dear, you most certainly are."

"Do I shock you?"

He had come up onto the bed and was kneeling above her, his hair hanging down, once again tickling her eager nipples to attention. He laughed at her question.

"No. Nothing shocks me. But I am ... intrigued, shall we say, and more than a little enthralled."

She glanced between his legs. "I can see that."

He glanced away from her, his mouth set into a curious pout. "Now ... remind me ... I have forgotten ... what was it you wished me to do again?"

Hermione giggled, before drawing her knee up to nudge the tip of his engorged cock. "I want you ... to fuck me."

"Sorry ... didn't quite catch that ... again?"

"Fuck me."

He smirked. "One more time."

"Fuck me, James ... fuck me deep and full. Fuck me so hard a part of you remains in me forever."

"Now there's an offer a gentleman can't refuse."

He slipped down her body. He dragged her jeans, those jeans which had captivated him since he had first seen her, slowly down her legs and off and then, with a swift and well-aimed slice of his hook, her knickers were shredded, tossed to the side, and she lay before him, naked and ready.

After a gaze of adoration at what greeted him, Hook moved back up the bed, drew her leg around his torso, positioned himself at her expectant opening, and thrust.

Hermione's back buckled and her mouth gaped. A rush of air was pulled into her as her eyes rolled back in her head.

"Oh my god!"

"Something like that," groaned Hook. He pushed deeper yet into her and emitted a rasping moan of sheer abandon in the process.

As his great cock stretched her like none before, Hermione smiled in wonder, holding his head close, staring hard into those extraordinary eyes. "You are real."

"Did you doubt it?"

She could only nod, tears forming sharp along her lids. He started to pull out, so slow it mesmerised her. Then he was back in with a grunt, all the way, jolting her up the bed. "Do you doubt that?"

"No."

He pulled out hard then plunged deep into her again. "That?"

"No."

And again. _"That?"_

"No."

With relentless affirmation he fucked her. Hook's cock ploughed along her hard and fast, never slowing, confirming the reality of his existence with each plunge. And in the midst of his pistoning assurety he did not neglect her pleasure. With his hook digging into the bed for leverage, his other hand dragged down between her legs, moving nimbly through her trimmed hairs and aching flesh to find the perfect place. He rubbed tenderly at first while continuing to move inside her. Her head thrashed from one side to the other, her breath growing ragged.

"Ye gods! But you are wet and tight, wench!"

In the lust-soaked recesses of her mind, Hermione was aware that she had never been called wench before. It turned her on even more. She groaned exultantly and clenched around him.

"Careful, woman! If you do that, I'll come off before you – and that would be terribly bad form."

Hermione smirked – he was true to his character. Hook slackened his pace and concentrated on coaxing more pleasure from her clit. His skilled fingers worked quickly, and when his eyes met hers again, her pleasure rose sharply. With a final thrust into her and a perfect pluck of her clit, she came completely.

"James! Oh my god, James!"

When he heard the delirious cry of his name and felt her body shatter upon him, Hook moved frantically again, aware that he was about to erupt. He gripped her shoulder hard with his hand and ploughed more brutally along her than before.

"Yes, yes! But you are perfect! I can hold on no longer ... Hermione ... take it, take me ..."

He burst into her, his breath groaning out of him as his head arched back in rapture.

He collapsed onto her, his hair falling over her face. She reached up to brush it off, her own breaths coming fast and heavy.

"Bloody, bloody hell, James. I can't believe it. I can't believe I've just done that."

He raised himself slightly and smirked. "Well then ... we'll just have to keep doing it until you do."

She laughed, pulling him down onto her, running her hands leisurely over his hot, damp back and kissing him deeply.

Eventually, he slipped out of her and rolled over. Hermione pulled herself up from the bed and rushed to the bathroom where he could hear the splash of water for a few minutes as she washed. When she returned, her lithe body gliding back to him, she nestled against him, curling her leg around his thighs.

He ran his hand up and down her arm. "You do have the most exquisite little cunny I have ever encountered."

Hermione laughed aloud, the sound of gleeful mirth pulled hard out of her. Hook frowned, confused at what he considered the ultimate compliment. "My dear ...?"

She noticed his dejection and set her face straight. "I'm sorry ... I didn't mean that ... thank you ... it's just ... that word."

His eyebrows rose up in query.

Hermione tittered again. "Cunny."

"Do you not know what I mean?"

"Yes. It's just, we don't use that word ... it sounds a little ... old-fashioned."

"And what words do you use?"

She giggled. "It's a bit embarrassing really."

"Try me."

"Well ... snatch, umm ... fanny, I suppose ... quim, but I hate that ... pussy ..."

"Pussy? Most of those are familiar to me. I had forgotten pussy. That could certainly make me roar."

She giggled again. He was by now slipping down over her skin, lingering over her nipples, sliding hot hands over her belly, questing down through neat curls to find the object of discussion. "Any others?"

"Umm ..."

Two fingers had slid up inside her. She squirmed onto them. He was descending further, keeping the fingers inside, flexing them agilely along her sweetest place. She moaned. "Just the one ... you know it ... it's similar ..."

"Say it ..."

"It's not very ladylike."

His mouth was hovering over her clit, she could feel his breath enticing it, feel the fine hairs of his moustache exciting the succulent flesh of her sex.

She groaned, arching towards him. He pulled back, but angled his fingers again deep inside. This time she sobbed. "Say it."

"Cunt."

And his mouth was on her. He sucked around her clit so hard she gasped in shock. Delicious jolts of the pleasure to come danced around her belly. He pulled out his fingers to replace them instead with his tongue, and she felt them instead ease dexterously up into her arse. "Oh fucking hell!"

Hook smirked against her cunt, his tongue delving in to devour the sublime taste of her. He had never heard a woman using such base and primeval language, but her filthy tongue was making him so rock hard he thought he would explode just from eating her alone.

Keeping his fingers tight up her arse, he worked his thumb in dizzying circles in her pussy now, while his tongue concentrated on her clit, laving hard over it, before dancing lightly and tantalisingly.

"Yes, yes, harder, James ... more in my arse ... that's so good ... you're so fucking good ..."

Were all women like this now? The forty cent whores in Havana had been so flexible and accommodating as to make his eyes water, but this intelligent, sensitive, enlightened woman pouring her passion out, raw and uninhibited, allowing herself to be broken down under his mouth and fingers, gave him a thrill and sexual satisfaction which surpassed anything he had ever before experienced. He could get used to modern life.

She writhed, and he reached up with his hook to press down on her belly in an attempt to control her. The cold flat of the blade brought her to attention and she gasped with the shock.

"Please ... please, James ..."

He was devouring her now, his tongue, his lips, his teeth nipping lightly to reinforce the sharpness of who he was. Taking her clit fully into his mouth and sucking so hard she felt it pulling into him, she came. Hermione screamed. The fingers in her arse delved deeper, the thumb inside her stroked sweetly and she was undone.

Her back arched high off the bed and her wail of ecstasy keened hard into his ears. If he had doubted his reality after what she had said, he did so no longer. A woman didn't come off like that without a real man.

After she had stilled he pulled himself up, took the binding of his hook off completely and lay beside her. Hermione snuggled against him, laying her head on his chest and reaching across to curl her fingers around him. She did not seem remotely worried by his maimed wrist. Turning her head, she kissed his breast before closing her eyes. James stroked her hair, enjoying the raw lushness of it.

"Thank you," she murmured, her breathing slowing into sleep.

He paused, his mind ticking. _When? When was the last time someone had said thank you to him?_ He could not remember one.

James Hook lay awake for some time, staring at the canopy above him. Despite the fact that he had not killed anyone for over three days, he was remarkably content.

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><p><strong>Oh ... James ...<strong>

**I'll have what she's having.**

**Plenty more where that came from, have no fear ... Thoughts? xx**


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry for the delay in posting this. RL is very very busy at the moment.**

**Anyway, thank you all for the lovely response to this story and the reviews. This chapter is, err, vivid, I suppose. I reckoned that as you had waited so patiently for the events of the last chapter, I may as well indulge you for a while. Still, things move along also.**

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><p>When Hermione turned over in bed the next day she found Captain James Hook sleeping peacefully beside her. For a while she was careful not to wake him. There was nothing more delicious than watching a lover sleeping, especially one with such a dangerous reputation. Men are rendered equal in sleep, all sins erased by the deceitful semblance of innocence, if only for that period of unknowing slumber.<p>

But soon Hermione's curious desire got the better of her. Pushing back the covers she came across his cock, still impressive even in rest. Dampening her hand at her mouth she wrapped her fingers delicately around it and squeezed, rubbing her thumb gently over the head. Hook stirred a little. His flesh immediately swelled in her palm.

She continued, growing more confident, and was rewarded with more. His cock grew and rose before her eyes, causing her to stare with wicked glee at her handiwork. Still James' eyes remained closed, but Hermione suspected he was awakening. His breathing was no longer deep and audible and she thought she could detect the beginnings of a smirk caressing his mouth.

And then, with sudden deft elegance, she threw her leg over him and with barely a hesitation lowered herself onto his now rock hard member. Leaning gently on his torso, she began a slow push up and down, revelling in the fullness he immediately gave her, delighting in the perfect bend of him as he pressed into her g-spot.

Her head fell back and she concentrated on pleasure, using his body as much as giving. Leaning back, she braced herself on his legs, rolling her body as she fucked him, eyes closed, teeth biting into her lip.

"What a delightful way to awaken."

Hermione opened her eyes and stared down. The blue eyes were now staring dreamily up at her, the smirk firmly in position.

"Good morning, James Hook."

"Good morning indeed." She clenched upon him. "Hell's whores! Do that again."

She did. Tightening her thighs about him, she bucked on his cock with delicious certainty. His hand rose to brush over her nipples, sometimes pinching with remarkable conviction. She laughed with delight and applied herself yet harder to milking his cock of pleasure, while at the same time bringing herself so close she had to slow a little.

When at last she allowed herself to come, grinding her clit against his pubic bone, she ensured her eyes were locked into his. With a keening cry Hermione spasmed around him, prompting him to spill fast and hard up into her. Hook gripped her hip, digging his fingers so brutally into her side she would bruise. His own cry of rapture was grunted from him.

At length, Hermione slumped down and nestled against him, tracing a finger slowly over his chest as her breathing steadied. He drew his good arm around her and stroked along her arm.

"How did you become a pirate?" she asked softly.

"You insist on using that term. I am not sure I know what it means."

"Somebody who commits a war-like act, often involving robbery or violence towards others at sea."

"How charming; you appear to have swallowed a dictionary."

She giggled and tweaked his nipple, eliciting a small yelp. "But does that sound familiar?"

"I suppose ... if you put it like that ..." He pouted in defeat before furrowing his brow. "But _war-like_? ... It was Pan who started this war, not me."

"So you weren't a pirate before he came along?"

"Well ... there were occasions ... I prefer to see them as ... necessary business transactions."

"Why did you go to sea in the first place?"

He paused for a long time, staring blankly up. "I wanted to be as far from my father as possible. Being on ship seemed the best way to achieve that."

Before she could open her mouth to respond, James had gripped her hard and spun her over, kissing her with a conversation-stopping finality. "I rather fancy some breakfast. Don't you?" he grinned.

She smiled back, searching his eyes for meaning. He had shut it out for now.

"I'll go and see what I can do. Come down when you're ready." She kissed him gently then rose from the bed.

Hermione washed quickly, threw on some clothes and went downstairs to find the house-elf busy in the kitchen.

"Morning, Pascoe."

"Hello, Miss." Pascoe smiled at her, fixing her with a longer stare than usual. "Mr Malfoy told me to inform you he would be gone for two days."

"OK."

There was a pause. "Do you wish to know where he's gone?"

"Not really."

"You're usually quite interested, Miss."

"Well … not today."

James soon appeared in the doorway. He smiled that lazy smile and sauntered over, his eyes fixed immediately into hers. Pascoe glanced at them before shuffling from the room.

"I haven't set eyes on you for all of ten minutes and already I'm hungry for more."

He came up behind her and encircled her hard, pulling her back into him. His mouth descended and his lips and tongue set about devouring her neck with hot, open passion.

"James …" she warned, aware that the elf could return any minute.

He ignored her.

"Stop it."

"Hmm?"

"Not here."

"Why not here?"

"The elf; he could come back in …"

"What? It is a servant. It matters not."

"You can't say that! And he has eyes and ears and a mouth. He'll talk." But her hands were telling a different story, reaching up to pull his head against her; her hips pushed back, grinding into the hardness she knew was searching her out.

"And who will he tell of any consequence?"

She pulled away a little. "He could tell Lucius."

"And why is that a cause for concern?"

"I … He … might not want to hear about things like that going on in his house."

"Things like what?"

"Stop teasing me."

"Oh no. I rather enjoy teasing you. _Things - like - what?" _His hand was under her shirt, playing with her nipples.

"Well, what we've been up to." Resistance was by now non-existent. She quickly cast a locking and silencing charm on the room.

"And what exactly have we been up to? Don't be coy. Say the word, say what you begged me to do to you last night, what you did to me this morning."

"Not here."

"Yes here."

She sighed. His mouth was burning through her skin into her soul. "Making love."

"That was not the phrase you employed last night."

"You say it then," she sobbed as his thumb and forefinger teased her right nipple to tight, needy attention. "I want to hear you say it."

Now he was slipping down to her jeans and undoing the zip enough to allow his fingers in.

'Fucking. I was giving you the perfect fucking. Say it.'

'Fucking.'

"Say it again."

"I want you to …"

"Yes?"

"Fuck me again."

"So soon? It has been only a few minutes. If thou were to ever join me at sea, my beauty, thou wouldst need more patience."

"Patience?" His fingers were grazing her clit, avoiding it enough to cause her to keen with frustration and grind closer to him, only for him to deny her even more.

"A sailor's life is one of periods of great inactivity where biding one's time is all one can do."

Hermione had had enough; she wasn't in the mood to hand over all control. Spinning around, she pushed him back a little but kept her forefinger on the burgundy silk of his waistcoat, tracing over the brocade. "And while I was biding my time, surely I would be allowed to amuse myself a little?"

"Perhaps ... a little."

"How do you think I could best amuse myself on board ship, my Captain?"

"Well, the best amusements are to be found in the captain's cabin."

"Are they indeed? I hardly thought women were permitted on board ship at all, let alone into the captain's cabin. Would you allow a woman into your cabin, James Hook?"

"I would allow _you_ in. And I would keep you."

"In that case ... for my amusement, I think perhaps I would start ... with this."

She had reached into his breeches and was by now coaxing his already hard cock so that it grew and stiffened further in her warm, supple palm.

"And then perhaps ... this." Undoing his waistcoat, she reached a hand under his shirt and was now lightly rubbing over his left nipple, occasionally squeezing just enough to cause a shoot of pleasured shock to dart through him. He sucked in a breath.

"And then ... if time allowed ... I think I may seek to further amuse myself thus ..."

And Hermione dragged herself down so that her head was level with his cock, the tip swaying, leaking its need, seeking out her enticing lips.

She hesitated, looking up with her wide brown eyes, her mouth fixed into the sort of smirk he was such a master of. His breath came fast through his nose and he set his mouth straight with determination.

Hermione licked her lips and brought her upper teeth out to bite on the flesh of her bottom lip.

"Brimstone and gall, wench! Wilt thou be done with it now?"

She brought her tongue to the base of the shaft. And then, with a slow languor that verged on insolence, Hermione licked up along the underside of his cock, her tongue hot and slow, trailing a cooling damp delight as it went. She hesitated as she reached the head, and the moan which had been sounding from Hook as she moved along him now turned into a roar of frustration.

"Hell take you, woman, if you do not do it now! I am fit to explode."

Hermione smirked. He certainly had a way with words. Opening her mouth in plain view for him, she brought her swollen lips over the plump head of his cock and encased it in her soft wet heat. This time Hook merely released the deepest breath of satisfaction. His hand came to her head and he stroked her hair gently. "Stay there. Stay like that. That is a perfect thing."

She allowed his cock to sit thick in her mouth. Inhaling deeply, Hermione absorbed the smell and taste of him: vanilla and brandy and man. But then her own need became too much. That strange switch of desire had been flicked and she craved the taste and feel of cock as never before. Hermione pulled in her cheeks tight and slid her lips slowly down over the thick, hard flesh. The man groaned, his head falling back in bliss.

Sucking hard, she drew up, running her tongue along the underside as she went. As she reached the top, she let it dance over the tip, dipping into the slit which was seeping his sweet foretaste. One hand gripped the lower shaft near the base, the other cupped his balls, lightly at first, but when she knew her tongue and lips were at their most adventurous she squeezed harder and rejoiced in the tension capturing his muscles.

Hermione took her time. This was her pleasure as much as his. She was never at her more ardently focussed as when sucking cock. And this cock was all she had ever wanted. She lavished attention on it, her lips, tongue and teasing teeth tasting and pulling and tugging as if she would starve if she didn't feast on it. And in tune with her mouth there came from her little sighs and mewls of contented concentration.

It was not surprising that James Hook was overcome.

He leaned against the kitchen table, at times staring in wonder at the woman on him, at times incapable of thought, his head falling back and his eyes fixed blankly above him. His speech, such as it was, was slurred and thick with mesmerised bliss.

"Want this ... want you, your lips alone ... forever, forever, my sweet lover ... if I were to die tomorrow, I would be content ..."

And then any speech he had managed turned into mere moanings.

Hermione focussed her attention. The hand on his balls squeezed that little bit harder, the fingers curled around the base stroked up and down in time with the hard pulls of her cheeks and the dance of her tongue over the head. It didn't take long. The man above her groaned in torment. He was trying to pull her off him. "It's now, it's now ... move off me or I'll come off in your mouth ..."

Hermione gaped her mouth and dragged herself away and up to his ear, her hand relaxing its grip. Hook moaned, his eyes squeezed shut tight in frustration. She slipped her words hot and desperate into his ear. "Don't you fucking dare think about pulling out of me. I want you. I want all of you. I will take you and I will taste you and I will swallow you down. You want good form? Good form is spilling your seed on my tongue. Don't you deny me. You're all I ever wanted, all I ever dreamed of. Now come in my mouth, James, and let me know all of you."

And she was immediately back down to him, her lips curled over him again, her tongue rendering him incoherent. The slight deprivation of her while she was speaking made the return of her perfect wet heat revelatory. His hand was thrown down on her head, pushing her inescapably upon him. Hermione moaned as his cock swelled in her mouth, her own desire blossoming with expectation. And then he opened his mouth and roared. His hook dug into the table beside him, the muscles along the arm taut and flexed.

And he came. With long, deep shoots he filled her mouth, his pleasure propelled violently from a place so deep she struggled to hold it all. With hard cock and rich cum in her mouth it was not surprising that his seed leaked from her, running in little rivulets from the corners of her mouth. Still she sucked, still he came, inhuman groans rising from him, his eyes damp with blinding pleasure. If it wasn't for the grip on her head, Hook may have collapsed. His legs juddered as his seed burst fast from him. When at last he slackened, she did not relinquish her hold on his cock. Turning her eyes up to him, she allowed him to sit snug in her mouth just as she had when she had started and waited for his breathing to steady and for the wetness in his eyes to be blinked away.

Then at last she drew back and let him slip from her mouth. He sighed softly. She held his cum inside and noticed his eyes crease as he saw the dribbles from the corners of her mouth. And then she swallowed. The warm, thick liquid slipped deep into her. He tasted of the sea. Taking her finger, she pushed the remnant back into her mouth and sucked it clean.

Hermione smiled. Hook stared back; the ego had evaporated, broken down with the orgasm which had ripped through his limbs. Hermione stood, did up her jeans and turned to go.

He stopped her, his hand gripping her arm. "No. I cannot let you leave unsatisfied."

"I'm hardly unsatisfied, James. I know what you taste like now, and I won't forget."

"Please ... just ... lie down. You have left me incapable of much, but I need to see you come for me. I need to see you come apart."

He held her wrist gently and guided her to the table, lying her down upon it near the side and standing beside her. She pushed her jeans and pants off quickly and lay quite still, her knees drawn up, her eyes fixed on him. And then, his hook stroking her hair from her head with remarkable tenderness, he brought his hand between her legs. James sucked in a breath as he found her sodden with desire. His fingers could barely find purchase on the soaking flesh he encountered.

He glanced down as he parted her sex. "Beautiful cunt, beautiful, wet, glorious cunt." It was her turn to sob.

Only fingers. He used only his fingers. His eyes, thrilling in their blue brightness, stared hard into her while those fingers, agile, strong and knowing, strummed and stroked and slid through her. At times he pushed up into her and she revelled in her fulfilment, then back to find her clit and draw from it such brilliant happiness that she knew it was swollen and ready. And still his eyes held her. She dared not look away.

He leaned further down, his hair dropping onto her, and whispered over and over, a plea almost, "Come now, come as you made me come. Let me feel you on my very fingertips." His voice was as rich and low as ever but so sweet she almost felt it was being gifted to her. He could sense all she was feeling and spoke it to her. "You are close, my girl. I know it. There ... there ... nearly ... look at me ... look only at me ..." His eyes searched her face for signs of her pleasure. "Ah! I see it in you ... I feel it ... so close ... come, come, my sweet darling ... there it is ... _now_."

And as he had dictated, pleasure took her. His fingers had coaxed her clit perfectly at that moment, to be replaced immediately by his thumb as he then pushed two or three up into her to feel her orgasm raging on them. Her body heaved off the hard warm wood and a brutal grunt heaved out as the force of coming pulled through her. Her eyes widened but she didn't look away. The knuckles of one hand were white with tension as she gripped the table edge unknowingly. The other hand was flung up to grip into his shoulder for support and confirmation. And in that instant where her body was destroyed and rebuilt in a moment, she saw a flame deep in the blue of his eyes, so real it made her rapture pour through her yet again as his fingers thrummed deep in her cunt.

Afterwards she tried to sit up and had to grip onto his neck for support. Hermione laughed with open amazement, her head thrown back in disbelieving gratitude. Pulling herself up further, she showered him in kisses which he returned with a smirk. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. God, that was ..."

"I was only returning the favour. You would expect no less, I hope."

"I expect nothing, James."

"Ay, and therein lies your faults. You should expect much more."

"From you?"

"If you wish ... but not only me."

She looked away. "We'd better move out of here. Pascoe will be wondering why he can't get into the kitchen."

"You see. You are concerned far too much about others and not enough about yourself."

She merely smiled and kissed him gently again before pushing herself from the table. Hermione pulled up her jeans and crossed to the door to remove the locking and silencing charms. She opened it to find Pascoe directly outside.

"Miss. I wondered if everything was alright. I suspected you were in here but couldn't hear anything." He looked beyond her to Hook. "I hadn't realised the captain was still in here with you."

"Everything is fine, Pascoe. Captain Hook and I were involved in some research."

"Yes, very deep and penetrating research. It took a great amount of concentration." She shot the pirate a glare as he ambled up to them with a smirk.

"Master Lucius owled to tell me he would be returning early tomorrow." The elf looked hard at her.

"Oh." She stared back. "Jolly good."

Hermione walked out past the elf, wanting to put distance between them. Hook followed but paused briefly to glance down at Pascoe with a grin. "You may wish to give the kitchen table an extra good scrubbing."

-xxoOoxx-

They spent most of the day and the following night in a haze of heat and flesh. Hermione lost track of the number of comes he gave her and could only wonder at how this man awakened her body. He had the most remarkable stamina, and when his cock needed to recover, he would lavish attention on her with his fingers and mouth. He removed his hook for the most part, and she found herself accepting the disfigured arm, and when she caressed and kissed it, he would moan with delight and enclose her into him.

The morning dawned with the soft light of a fine autumn day. Leaving James asleep, she slid down the stairs still dressed in her nightgown and went to fetch some coffee.

Lucius was sitting at the kitchen table reading the Daily Prophet. She stopped before he had noticed her. If Hermione was surprised she still found herself remarkably calm.

"You're back."

He looked up suddenly, his face taking a moment to retreat back to detached disinterest. "Apparently."

"Good trip?"

"Effective. But difficult."

Despite the change in her relationship with James, Lucius' presence somehow sat happily with her and added to the euphoria she was experiencing with the pirate.

"You never seem to enjoy whatever work it is you do. Maybe you should try something else. Do you want some coffee?" She found her conversation coming more easily with him than it had for some time.

"You're remarkably ... chipper today." The Malfoy drawl was back.

Hermione laughed and turned on the coffee maker.

"What's so funny?"

"You. _Chipper._ Funny word."

"I rather like it."

"I like it too. I just don't associate it with you."

She glanced over at him. He cocked an eyebrow. Hermione averted her gaze. He was leaning his elbows on exactly the spot where she had lain back for Hook the day before. She turned rapidly back to the coffee maker and then found herself giving the first cup to Lucius.

He eyed her flatly. "How's Hook?"

Once again, she turned quickly away. "Fine."

"What have you two been doing?"

"What do you mean?" She knew she sounded as guilty as she felt.

_Pause._ "I mean ... walking? Research? Discussion? What else would I mean?"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, research, discussion. All that. More milk?"

"No. It's very good as it is. You know how I like it." She looked at him at last. And he at her. "Thank you."

Hermione found herself sitting down with her coffee. She had intended to take it up to Hook who was expecting one.

"What was your business this time?"

Lucius sighed. "It was to discuss an acquisition. My partners are dragging their heels, saying it's not a firm we should be involved with, but it seems obvious to me."

"What is it? Property? Insurance?"

"No. It's a publishing house."

"Publishing?" Hermione could not hide her shock.

"Don't sound so surprised."

"I ... no, I just ... what sort of books?"

"Children's books mostly, up to young adults. For wizarding children. You may have heard of it - 'Bewitchment Books'.

"Yes, I know them well. I used to read a lot of their stuff when I was at Hogwarts."

"They have been in difficulty for some time. But they have some wonderful authors and a good history. They simply need an injection of funds and some guidance and I believe they'll be on the right path again. They could even branch out into Muggle publishing."

"Really!" This time she nearly choked on her coffee.

"Yes. Difficult times call for difficult measures, Miss Granger. Even pureblood bigots think that."

They stared hard at each other for some time. His mouth was set straight, but she noticed a dance in his eyes. She allowed a slight smile to flit over her face which he at length returned.

"I miss talking to you." She hardly realised she had voiced it aloud.

And then the door was flung open. They turned to find James Hook striding into the room. He was wearing only a brocade dressing gown over his silk night breeches, and nothing else. Lucius' eyes lost their dance.

"Ah, Malfoy. Welcome back."

"Hook." Lucius eyed him solemnly.

"Good to see you again. Still, time has passed swiftly in your absence, hasn't it, Hermione?"

"Do you want a coffee?" She stood rapidly.

"Hmm. I was somewhat expecting one earlier."

Lucius glanced up over the Daily Prophet.

Hermione could scarcely breathe. Conversation ceased as she busied herself with the coffee, making more noise than necessary.

"How is business, Malfoy?

"Satisfactory." He didn't look up. "How is reality?"

Hook chuckled. "Oh, I find myself most suited to it. Especially in such glorious surroundings as these. And such company ..." He smirked at Hermione. She avoided his eyes. "How about another bout later, Malfoy? We never finished our earlier one."

"Very well."

"There you go." Hermione placed the cup in front of him. Hook leaned forward, his finger poised to touch her. She pulled back quickly, denying him any contact.

"I've got some work to do. I'll see you both later." She glanced at Lucius; he was staring at her intently. "Right. Bye." Hermione hurried from the room.

Lucius sniffed and returned to his newspaper. He avoided the gaze of Hook who was looking at him with a grin.

"Don't you want to know what I've been doing while you were away, Malfoy?"

"Not especially."

Hook sighed exaggeratedly. "I suppose I should put some clothes on. You are either very accepting or an utter fool to allow a man to walk around in your house in a state of some undress."

"Probably both."

"Perhaps we should delay the fencing until another day. I am feeling a little weary this morning; I hardly slept last night." He eyed Malfoy steadily. The blond man neither responded nor looked at him. Then suddenly Lucius stood, shuffling the paper loudly to fold it and preparing to leave the room. Hook stared after him.

"Perhaps you should teach Miss Granger to fence. She is, after all, remarkably agile and supple ... although I suspect she too may be a little lacking in energy today."

Lucius stopped and slowly turned back to Hook. Again, the air was silent between them. The wizard held himself tall, his nostrils flared with tension.

Hook stood up and paced slowly over to him, stopping only a foot or so away. He waited for him to meet his eye and his smirk deepened. "Remember, Malfoy. As discussed -" One dark eyebrow was cocked. "Fair game."

And he walked out, leaving Lucius alone in his kitchen.

Malfoy stared across the vacant room blankly, his fists curled tight beside him.

"Touché."

* * *

><p><strong>Well, fight back then, Malfoy!<strong>

**(She is a lucky girl, isn't she? And Hook really is very naughty. He may even get naughtier.) LL x**


	9. Chapter 9

**Apologies for the delay. Real life has been ridiculously busy recently, but I am now on holiday for quite some time so should be able to crack on with this. This is a mixed chapter with a bit of everything: conversation, development, sex and humour (I hope). Thanks as ever for the great response to this fic and the reviews. Sorry for not responding individually - it is simply a matter of quantity and time. But I do read and appreciate all your comments. Enjoy this one. LL x**

* * *

><p>Hermione was oddly subdued. She took herself off to the library for the rest of the morning and went into Salisbury in the afternoon. She knew why she was feeling different. Lucius was back.<p>

She sat for an age on a bench in the cathedral close, staring at the spire as it stretched its way into the heavens.

"Amazing, isn't it?"

Hermione turned blankly to find a man sitting beside her. He was dressed casually but smartly and had assertive good looks with deep brown eyes. She smiled absent-mindedly at him. "Yes. Especially since it was Muggle-made." She hadn't really intended to voice that aloud and creased her brows in annoyance at herself.

"Sorry?" the man laughed.

"Nothing."

"Do you live here?" queried the man, already with a rise in his voice. Hermione would have to disappoint him.

"No."

"Neither do I. I'm docked in Portsmouth at the moment before we sail again. Just thought I'd come over to Salisbury for the day."

"Navy?"

"Yes." He turned to her with a grin and extended his hand. "Lieutenant Commander William Hempleton-Shaw."

She laughed. "Hermione Granger. Just 'Miss', I'm afraid; I feel rather inadequate."

"Are you here on your own?"

She smiled wryly. "I'm _here_ on my own, yes." She had better go soon. She didn't object to chatting with an attractive young naval officer, but she could tell what his intentions were. A year ago she would have had him in bed by the end of the day, but his easy smile and chiselled jaw simply reminded her of what was awaiting her back at the manor. But Hermione couldn't resist chatting to a lieutenant commander of Her Majesty's navy for a while longer.

"Do you miss the sea?"

"Sorry?"

Her question had burst out rather suddenly. He was clearly taken aback.

"When you're not on your ship - do you miss it?"

"Yes. A lot. You get used to the feel of the sea under you, to the smell, the camaraderie. But everyone's different. You're either born to it or you're not. I'll be back there tomorrow."

She glanced at him. He fixed her with his eyes and smiled. She was about to burst his bubble rather spectacularly. "My lover is the captain of a ship."

Lieutenant Commander William Hempleton-Shaw's face drained of colour. "Oh."

Hermione sighed, staring across at the cathedral again. "He'll have to go back soon. I know he misses it. He needs it."

"Is he Royal Navy?"

She smirked. "Not exactly."

It was clear to the man that there was no chance he was going to accomplish what had potentially been a diverting few hours of shore leave. He drew in a rueful breath.

"And then there's the other one," Hermione suddenly stated, as much to herself as him.

"Excuse me?"

Hermione was staring ahead of her and sighed before continuing her stream of consciousness. "The other man I live with. Well, at the moment anyway. I mean, not 'live with' like that. I'm just working in his house. But I like it when he's around. A lot. He's a bastard though. Can be anyway. A lot of the time. A complete knobhead."

"So why do you like it when he's around?"

"Good question."

"Does the naval guy live there too?"

"At the moment. Not that he's naval exactly, just sort of ... sea-faring."

"Sounds complicated."

"Yes. He's an incredible lover."

"That's nice." The officer's brows wrinkled and he looked away.

"Yes," she answered distractedly, clearly imagining specific moments which confirmed him as an incredible lover.

"And the other one?"

"What?"

"Is he a great lover too?"

"I don't know; I haven't slept with him."

"But you want to."

She sighed again. "I think I probably do."

The man chuckled and stood up. "Well, I'd better be off. You seem to already have plenty of men to keep you occupied. Shame ... I was going to ask you for coffee ..."

Hermione glanced up, still distracted. She pouted as she at last processed his words. "Sorry."

"It's OK. Worth a try though. What was the name of your captain friend? I might have heard of him."

"Yes, you may well have heard of him. But you'll never meet him."

Shaw looked down at her in confusion.

"Goodbye, Lieutenant Commander William Hempleton-Shaw. If you'd met me a month ago I may well have gone for that coffee. Sorry I was rambling."

"That's OK. You're clearly a passionate woman. Your two men are very lucky. Goodbye, Hermione."

He turned and walked off with a wry smile. Hermione stared ahead of her at the cathedral again. "They're not my two men."

-xxoOoxx-

As she returned to the manor, Hermione felt at once excited and more nervous than she could recall.

She Apparated to outside the front door and tried to allow her mind to settle as she walked the few steps up the pathway. She rang the doorbell as if she was a visitor and was surprised when Lucius himself answered.

"Ah, you're back." He sounded relieved, there was no doubt.

"Yes. I just went to Salisbury for a bit."

"I see. I wasn't sure where you'd got to. Was he with you?"

"Who?"

"_Him._ Hook."

"No. Isn't he here?" She walked through into the hallway.

"I haven't seen him. But then, I haven't exactly been seeking him out."

"I thought you two were best buddies."

Lucius tutted. Hermione was struggling to take off her coat and her arm became caught in it. She moaned with annoyance but before she knew it, in what seemed a remarkably natural gesture, Lucius had reached over and helped her pull it off. She glanced up. "Thanks."

He averted his eyes but did not move away. "How was Salisbury?"

"Lovely as ever. I got you something. I got one initially for James but then I ... didn't want to leave you out."

She reached into her bag and drew out a long thin box. Lucius sniffed out a slight laugh of surprise and took it tentatively. "Thank you." He almost sounded embarrassed.

Opening the box, he drew the object out and looked at it curiously. "It's a wand."

"Sort of. You won't be able to do much magic with that though. Bite it."

He glanced at her.

She giggled. "Go on."

Lucius furrowed his brows and brought the tip of the wand hesitantly up to his teeth before biting off a tiny amount of the end. His expression shifted into pleasant surprise as he registered what he was eating.

Hermione laughed. "It's chocolate. I thought perhaps James was feeling a bit left out so I'd buy him a wand. That was the best I could find in Salisbury. It's very good quality chocolate though."

Lucius chuckled. "You are a silly thing."

She knew she was beaming at him and felt her cheeks flushing hot.

"Hermione." She turned to find Hook coming down the stairs.

"Hello. I'm sorry I wasn't here today. I just ... went out for a bit."

"I have been exploring your grounds, Malfoy. Beautiful estate."

Lucius managed a brief tight smile.

Hook marched over to Hermione and kissed her long on both cheeks, his arms pulling her tight against him. "I missed your company, my beauty."

Lucius took a large, sharp bite off the wand.

Hermione pulled back a little and brought out another box, identical to the first. "Here. I got you a present. I thought perhaps you'd want one of your own."

Hook opened the box and drew out the chocolate wand. "Aha! Wonderful. I suspect, however, that magic in my hands would only serve to make the world a more dangerous place. Hmm. That makes it sound all the more interesting. What is the word? _Alakazam?"_ He thrust the wand out and waved it at Hermione who laughed.

"What?" grimaced Lucius. "I know of no spell of that name."

"No ... James was just ... it's a Muggle magic word ..." She tried to explain.

"It's not a magical word."

"No. The Muggles just make up silly sounding words and they get adopted as magi ... Never mind." She rolled her eyes at her pointless attempt to enlighten Lucius.

Hook was staring at his wand in bewilderment. "It didn't work."

"No."

"Aren't sparks supposed to fly out of the end?"

She now turned her incredulity on the pirate. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. Why didn't it work?"

Hermione dropped her mouth in disbelief. "Because you're not a wizard and it's made of chocolate."

"Ah." Hook looked crestfallen then took a cautious bite from the end of his wand. "So it is."

Hermione crossed her arms and marched off, leaving them both nibbling chocolate twigs. "Men."

-xxoOoxx—

For some time there was no conversation between Lucius Malfoy and James Hook as they sat opposite each other in the Red Room that night. But after his third glass of brandy, as he watched Malfoy crossing to pour one for himself, Hook finally spoke up. "Are you happy, Malfoy?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You don't strike me as being particularly happy."

"Need I be?"

"Certainly not. I have survived for many years without being remotely happy."

"Do you strive to be happy, Hook?"

"Of course. Why else would I spend my days trying to kill children?"

"That would make you happy?"

"Killing one child would."

"When were you last happy?" Lucius slumped into his chair again, his eyes closing as he spoke.

"At school, I suppose."

"And where was that?"

Hook fired his words out indignantly. "Good god, man! Need you ask? I am a gentleman, after all."

"You must remember, Hook, I do not move in your circles."

"Eton, man, Eton! Brimstone and gall, you need your eyes opening."

"I could say the same."

Hook looked askance. "You have _heard _of Eton, haven't you?"

"Heard of it …" Lucius grudgingly confirmed with a sneered exhalation into his glass.

"This school of yours … Warthogs …"

"Hogwarts."

"Miss Granger went there too she says?"

"Yes."

"Boys and girls together in school? Surely that is against the laws of nature! How the devil is one supposed to concentrate?"

"If you are clever enough it is perfectly easy to achieve good results both in curricular and … extra-curricular activities."

"I don't mean concentrate on academia, you fool! I mean concentrate on schemes and stratagems."

"That was what I meant too. Didn't you ever wish for some nice girl to distract you from the dull dronings of your arithmetic teacher, or whatever other thrilling subject you had to study?"

"I was, oddly enough, rather an attentive student, although I could get away with minimum endeavour. And as for distractions … there was always my Housemaster's wife."

"_Wife?"_

"Hmm. She took rather a shine to me. Let us say that she was just as much a part of my education as any of my masters' ramblings about Latin, geometry or Anglo-Saxon. In the absence of Matron, a fearsome lady possessing of no feminine or beguiling virtues whatsoever, it was our Housemaster's wife we went to in the case of an ailment. Ah yes – Mrs Monroe – exceedingly beautiful, desperately bored and frustrated, and clearly relieved to be surrounded by bright, agile young men. She had various ointments and creams which she would apply with flexible and skilled massage to whichever part of the body was affected. I soon became aware of the advantages of groin strain."

"How old were you at this time?" Lucius queried with a frown.

"Fifteen or so, as I recall."

"She would be in jail these days."

"Jail? How very undeserving for someone who enlightened and educated."

"She took advantage of your youth and innocence."

"I have never heard such rot in my life. I lost my innocence when I witnessed my father beating my mother to within an inch of her life when I was aged eight."

Lucius looked at Hook steadily as the pirate poured the brandy relentlessly down his throat. "Was he apprehended?"

"Father? Good god, no! That would have brought the government down. My father was _significant_ to the running of the country. He did a better job of it than running his family."

"Who was he?"

"Don't ask that, Malfoy. Bad form. Enough of me. What is your story?"

Lucius stared hazily into the fire. "I had an idyllic childhood: I rarely saw my parents. But I heard about them. They too were ... significant. They had an almost mythical quality to them – the great family, the great Purebloods."

"A lot to live up to?"

"I tried."

"Have you succeeded?"

"I fear not."

"Not according to Miss Granger?"

"Definitely not according to Miss Granger."

"You could change that."

"Don't start that again, Hook."

"I'm nothing if not persistent."

Lucius stared into his glass. "I see no reason why – I know you're sleeping with her."

Hook did nothing to deny it. "And how does that make you feel?"

The blond man almost smirked. "You know, if you weren't a pirate you'd make a bloody good shrink."

"Come again?"

"Never mind."

"You are remarkably magnanimous about me rogering your woman."

"I find myself constantly having to repeat myself to you, Hook."

"How is that?"

"She is not _my_ woman."

"I take you repeating that so often as evidence that you wish she was. You are trying, and clearly failing, to convince yourself otherwise."

"Why, if you are so intent on seeing Miss Granger and I ... together ... are you persisting in sleeping with her then?"

"Well ... you are being ridiculously stubborn, she is here ... and I'm a man. The mere sight of her makes me stand to attention, and I was always one for making the most of the opportunities available to me."

"_Stand to attention?" _

"I don't need to draw you a diagram, Malfoy. Come now, I know full well what you feel when she is near you. The smell of her hair, the angle of her neck, the rise of those delicious breasts. Aah ..." He sucked in a gulp of brandy through his teeth and closed his eyes with a smirk. "I have all of that awaiting me upstairs."

"Shut up."

"That's more like it. How you tolerate us going at it in your house is beyond me. I have never known a man to be so blind as to what is directly before him. But then, as your head resides firmly up your own posterior, that should not be so surprising."

"One day you may just push it that bit too far, Hook!" Lucius stood now and paced indignantly over to the fireplace.

"That was the general idea."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You and she. You both need your eyes opening. I can roger her into seeing sense, into realising what she wants, what she could have. You – I have to appeal to your temper and your jealousy and your frustration. I know it well, Malfoy. I have lived with those emotions every minute of every day of my adult life. I know how they can drive one."

"So this is all just one big philanthropic escapade? You're going to go upstairs now and bed her for my benefit?"

"Something like that, yes." Hook pouted, his eyes glazing as if thinking of other matters, his lips curling into that sardonic grin. "Of course ... she is rather enjoying me. And she is, I have to say, the finest fuck I have ever had."

Before he could draw another breath, Lucius had strode over, grabbed him by the lapels and hauled him to his feet. Hook's eyes flared momentarily in shock but his expression was soon replaced by a casual smirk.

"Don't speak about her in that way. _Ever._ Do you understand? You will have some bloody respect. I have let you stay in my house and sleep in my rooms and eat my food and fuck my ..."

"Yes?"

"My ... _friend."_

"Ah! Friend, hey? Progress, Malfoy! What was that distasteful term you used before ... _Mudblood?_ I thought Miss Granger was 'not your kind'."

"You have a bloody nerve, Hook." He still hadn't let go of him. Hook didn't seem to be concerned.

"You're not going to do something dashingly vulgar and wave that little stick of yours at me again, are you?"

Malfoy at last let go, practically throwing him off him into the chair.

Hook chuckled slightly before pulling himself to his feet. "Remember, Malfoy – I am not here for much longer. But in the meantime ..." He glanced up in the general direction of the bedrooms which lay above. "I think I shall retire for the night. Good evening."

Malfoy refused to speak and heard Hook's heavy footsteps leaving the room and mounting the staircase. Gripping his glass tight in his hands, he brought it up hard behind him and threw it into the fire with an almighty crash where the remaining brandy flared with a blue flame reflected in his eyes.

-xxoOoxx-

Hermione ate some supper in her room. She simply didn't want to be with them, at least not both of them together. Perhaps it was the deceit. Or the guilt. Or both. But she still missed them. She missed Lucius' eyes. And she missed what was behind his eyes. And she missed all of Hook.

She wondered if he'd come to her.

He did.

At first, as she let him in, she simply stood and looked at him. He let her, appraising her with a smirk.

"Did you eat your wand?"

"Yes. Tasty. Thank you."

"Did you actually think it was real?"

His mouth turned down in self-appraisal. "Possibly. A little."

"Bloody hell, James."

"You talk too much." He took a step towards her, his eyes raking over her body.

"Do I?"

"Yes. Stop talking."

"Did you eat with Lucius?"

"I said stop talking." He was nearly upon her now.

"And I asked you a question."

"If you persist in talking I shall have to find ways of silencing you."

"Promise?"

Her resistance of earlier had evaporated almost as soon as he had entered her room. No matter what was going on in her head, he was here now and that inevitably meant she wanted him. He leant into her now and whispered soft and malevolent in her ear. "What a very naughty girly you are. Do you know what happens to naughty girlies?"

She looked directly at him and shook her head silently.

"Would you like to find out?"

Hermione nodded slowly.

Hook locked his eyes, shining blue in the candlelight, into hers and smirked. "Remove your shirt. Slowly."

She did so, as slow as she could manage. His eyes stared hard at her body as it was revealed to him.

"Now that ... thing, device ... contraption ... thing ..."

"It's called a bra."

He held up his finger and raised his brows warily. "Uh uh uh. I told you not to talk."

It was Hermione's turn to smile. She reached behind and unhooked her bra, pushing it from her shoulders and letting it tumble to the floor.

He glanced down at her breasts and let his mouth turn up at the corners as he cupped one in his good hand and lowered his mouth to the other. Hermione placed her head on his dark curls and stroked, little sighs occasionally floating from her as he sucked and rubbed.

He let his hand fall from her breast at length and slipped his fingers down her legs, pulling up the skirt she had been wearing. She didn't have on any underwear. His middle finger parted her wetness and slipped into her pussy, finding it wet and ready.

"Naughty girl indeed." He looked at her, but her eyes were already glazing and unfocussed. Although his fingers remained determinedly attentive, his expression became one of concentrated seriousness. "Why did you run away from me today?"

"I didn't."

His fingers continued to tantalise her clit and ease up into her pussy.

"Don't lie, girly. You know you did. Why?"

"I needed some time to myself."

"Didn't you miss me?"

"Yes."

"And what ..._ exactly_ ... did you miss about me?"

She sighed. She was nearly there already. He had the most intuitively skilled fingers she had ever encountered.

"_What_ ... did you miss about me?"

"The way you do that."

"That?" He was somehow tapping her g-spot and thrumming her clit at the same time.

"Uh huh. Don't stop doing that."

"Anything else?"

"I miss your eyes. I always miss your eyes. And ..." She gasped in as he touched her perfectly.

"And?"

"And your cock."

"Look at me."

She dragged her eyes open and managed to make contact with that blue she so craved.

"I think it's about time I was inside you, don't you?"

He had removed his hand, causing her to groan aloud but almost instantly pushed her back against one of the end posts of the four-poster.

"Hurry, hurry, please, hurry, Ja ..."

Before she could finish his name he had pressed a length of dark material into her mouth and tied it hard behind her head, gagging any further noise. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. In the next instant, her hands were lifted high over her head and tied above her to the post with the same material.

"I told you what would happen if you talked too much." He quickly pulled himself from his breeches, threw up her skirt, drew her right leg up to the side and entered her with a grunt of sheer satisfaction. Hermione couldn't speak but the perfect fulfilment of his cock so sudden and hard inside her forced a grunt to be muffled in the gag. He moved fast, using the bed post for purchase, pushing hard up into her time and again with brutal groans. She came quickly and desperately; she had been so ready after his finger-fucking of before, but Hook hardly seemed to register it and continued to plough along her, his hand digging into her shoulder, his thumb threatening to curl around her throat. Her orgasm had held him powerfully and she knew the pleasure he was experiencing was tighter and hotter than ever. She let him take what he wanted, what he needed.

With a brutal thwack he plunged his hook into the wood of the post only an inch or so away from her head and continued to move. His eyes were alight, burning so intensely that she wondered if she could detect the merest trace of red mingling into the blue. And then he was coming, coming with a roar from a place so base and raw that a flash of fear shot through her for the first time he had come to her. But the moment served only to send another ripple of pleasure through her.

And as his body subsided and his pleasure poured itself into her she relaxed. His head sagged onto her shoulder and his fingers fumbled to release both her hands and her mouth.

"Are you alright?" he breathed out between breaths.

"Of course. Why shouldn't I be?"

"I was ... it was rather ... abrupt."

She came over to him and kissed him. He returned it passionately, violently. When at last he broke away he held her close to him.

"I liked that. I needed that," she declared.

"You bring out the best in me, but the worst cannot be suppressed entirely."

"Of course not. I don't want it any other way. That's why you're here."

He drew back, looking beyond her, his eyes hard. "I have been feeling different, just today ... as if I am in a dream. Everything is still present and vivid and tangible, but in a sort of heightened reality, magnified at times and transitory at others."

Hermione held him close and shut her eyes tight. She knew it would happen; the magic was changing him, starting to draw him back. She had dreaded it, but hopefully it would not move too quickly.

Hook pulled away. "I'll leave you for the night. I should imagine you wish to be alone after that."

She gripped his hand and held him back. "Don't be silly. Now more than ever ... stay with me. Sleep with me tonight." She pulled him with gentle kisses towards the bed.

-xxoOoxx-

Hook drifted off to sleep, his arm hung over her waist. Hermione stroked it slowly as his breathing steadied, delighting in the firm muscles and fine hairs. But before she too fell asleep, she wondered briefly how Lucius Malfoy's arm felt in comparison.

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><p><strong>Curiouser and curiouser ... LL x <strong>

**(There are a couple of chocolate wands I'd like to nibble on ... Sorry, couldn't resist.)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Could I just answer the queries about _The Sense of Taste_. Don't worry, I will be updating quite soon, but this one has taken my creative energy recently. Sorry for the wait on what is still a very emotive story for me- I haven't forgotten.**

**So ... This is a very important chapter. Hermione and Lucius move on significantly and profoundly ... and Hermione and Hook? Well, let's just say Hermione needs an outlet for her whirlwind of desire and emotion and Hook is only too happy to oblige. WARNING: A VERY DETAILED CHAPTER FOR MATURE READERS ONLY (as indeed is the whole story, but this chapter takes things further again). As Hermione discovers, James Hook can be very bad indeed given the opportunity.**

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><p>Several days passed.<p>

Hook was still very much real and present but would tell Hermione of moments when he felt that dream-like state come over him, almost as if he was watching himself from afar. It did not affect his ability to interact or function, but it was clear that the incidents of it were becoming more frequent and protracted.

She still wanted him. She wanted all he could be as Man. The tautness of his arm muscles, the swell of his chest with its light covering of hair, the tight abdomen descending towards that perfect cock. Inside her head she knew she was struggling, but when she was presented with this man, she could do nothing but have him. Their love-making became ever more explorative and desperate. He tied her often now, taking her brutally, but then afterwards would indulge her body with such slow and tender sensuality that she would slip into her own warped reality. His ephemeral nature perhaps heightened this desire. But she knew full well what else heightened it: in the absence of having what she truly desired, she would take Hook with vigorous denial of the other.

But if Lucius Malfoy remained distant from her, his attitude since Hook had had her seemed to have mellowed. Whatever jealousy or refutation may have been raging through his mind, he was treating her more fairly and kindly than he had since those first early days together in his house.

It had been well over a week, nearly two, since Hook and Hermione had first spent the night together. She came down one morning, leaving her lover sleeping upstairs, and padded softly into the kitchen. It was the house-elves day off and Hermione secretly enjoyed preparing the food for herself. She found herself wanting a proper cooked breakfast and soon the aroma of sizzling bacon filled the kitchen.

"Smells very tempting."

She turned to find Lucius standing behind her. Hermione smiled. "Would you like some? There's plenty."

"Don't go to any trouble on my account."

"Don't be silly. It's just as easy to make for two."

"Three?"

"Well, there's no sign of James. He can have some later if he wants. How are you today?"

"Hmm, good. You?"

She smiled and turned to look at him. "Yes. Very well." Their eyes met for longer than either had anticipated. Hermione turned back to the pan.

"I've managed to convince my partners to acquire 'Bewitchment Books'."

She beamed. "Lucius, that's brilliant. They're such a respected publishers and it would've been a disaster to see them go under. That's the best news I've heard in a long time."

"I thought perhaps ... since you know about their titles and history you could ... perhaps ... advise us a little ... if you wanted ... when you had a moment or two ..."

She turned again, her eyes wide with surprise and delight. "Really?"

Lucius was studying a knot in the wood of the table, picking at it with a long forefinger. "Hm."

"I'd love that. Thank you."

He glanced up. She smiled back. "Would you like some toast?"

"If you're doing some."

Hermione laughed aloud. "Stop being so bloody deferential! That's not the sort of behaviour I expect from former Death Eaters." Her statement could have killed the atmosphere between them, but the idea was now so ludicrous, the war now so far away, and they had both worked so hard to bury the pain it had inflicted, that it simply caused her to continue giggling. She looked around at the former Death Eater. He was smiling too.

"Time ... as they say, does heal ..." His eyes glazed momentarily.

She responded gently but genuinely. "I know you went through hell."

"Yes ..." He drew in a shuddering breath. "No more than you."

She looked steadily at him, remembering the gaunt, haggard visage she had seen during the final battles. "I'm not so sure, Lucius. I didn't go to Azkaban. I didn't live every day with Voldemort in my own home, staring into my soul."

He darted his eyes to her and the corner of one twitched. "How do you know there was a soul to stare into?"

Hermione stared at him, feeling her eyes hot and prickling. "Because you're here now, talking to me: a Mudblood."

Lucius' pale cheeks flushed a slight pink and he dropped his gaze.

"Toast," declared Hermione with a sharp intake of breath and reached for the bread knife. But she found her hand trembling and the blade caught her finger badly. Dark red blood immediately poured defiantly from the thick gash. She sucked in with pain. "Shit!"

Immediately, Lucius stood and crossed to her. "That looks deep. Have you got your wand?"

She shook her head.

He frowned. "Mine's upstairs. We need to clean it and stem the blood until I can get it. Here."

Before she knew it, he had taken her hand in large but remarkably soft fingers and had turned the tap on gently. He held her cut finger under the running water and they both watched as the droplets turned pink with the relentless flow of blood. Hermione sucked in a sharp breath.

"Sorry. You've managed to do yourself some damage." Still holding her hand gently in his right one, Lucius reached over for a clean cloth. Letting go of her for a moment he held the material up and ripped with deft strength, tearing it into three long strips.

He took hold of her again, her blood flowing onto his hand in unceasing rivulets. Through her pain, Hermione was aware of his fingers, of the warmth and strength contained in them. The heat transferred straight to her belly. She breathed in deep. Amidst the coppery tang of blood there came also, stronger still, the deep spicy aroma of the man beside her. She allowed a little sob to catch her, but this time it was not pain which prompted it.

"I'm sorry; I know it hurts."

She looked up at him and he in turn met her eyes. "Yes ... it does hurt."

She saw the lurch of his Adam's apple along the elegant line of his neck. "I need to bind it. I'll be careful."

"I know." Her eyes were prickling again.

His fingers worked carefully and accurately to tie the cloth around her wound. It immediately turned red as blood continued to seep into it. Lucius' hands had turned that same dark crimson. Hermione glanced down at them.

"You're covered in my blood."

"Hm."

"I'm sorry."

Lucius was staring down at his hands, not with disgust, not with revulsion, but with curiosity. He spoke softly, voicing his thoughts aloud. "It's very red. Just like mine. So much blood ..."

She could feel a tear threatening to fall from her eyes and tried desperately to hold it back. "You'd better wash your hands."

He looked at her blankly, almost uncomprehending. "I need to get my wand. You're still bleeding."

"Wash your hands first. Wash my blood off your hands. Go on. I don't mind waiting."

"You must sit down. You may faint."

"I'll sit down if you wash your hands," she smiled softly at him. He seemed confused. Hermione reached over with her good hand and held one of his, letting her thumb stroke over the top. There was no sound around them. She felt his fingers tightening gently around hers. But her other hand throbbed agonisingly and her head swam a little. "Go on. Wash your hands then go and get your wand."

Lucius inhaled suddenly and turned to the tap. As he at last relinquished his hold on her hand, Hermione reached for a kitchen chair and slumped into it, watching him as he took the soap and cleansed away her blood which coated his fingers. Afterwards, he drew in a deep breath, turned to her with renewed energy and dashed from the room. "I won't be a moment."

Lucius returned with his wand very quickly and rather out of breath. Untying the now dark red cloth carefully he grimaced as he saw the deep wound still bleeding relentlessly.

"_Lacerio reparo."_ He incanted the charm carefully and precisely and Hermione exhaled audibly as the edges of the wound knitted meticulously together and the leaking of her blood at last ceased.

"Thank you."

Lucius sighed with relief. "That was a bad gash; you wouldn't have been able to heal it effectively yourself. I'm glad I was here. Now – you need some food." He peered at the pan which was still sizzling rather indignantly on the stove. "Hmm ... I shouldn't imagine you're going to be wanting much of this ..." Bringing the pan over, he showed it to Hermione. The bacon had shrivelled into a few frazzled and charred inedible strips.

She laughed. "Whoops. I'll make some more." Hermione started to get up but felt a firm hand on her shoulder, preventing her. Her belly immediately jolted again.

"You'll do no such thing." Lucius turned and began opening cupboards and assembling more ingredients. Hermione turned to stare at him – the prospect of Lucius Malfoy cooking was rather an intriguing one.

But after a dramatic sigh, with his back still turned, she saw him wave his wand over the plates and mutter some inaudible words. When he turned back only a few seconds later he placed a perfectly cooked elaborate plate of breakfast before her and sat down with his own.

Hermione laughed again. "That's cheating!"

"Well ... if one is lucky enough to be born a wizard, one might as well use it to one's advantage."

She grinned at him. His lips pursed teasingly, a ridiculously endearing sight in her eyes, and he cocked an eyebrow before concentrating on his food. Hermione swallowed her delight and did the same.

"I think James wanted to go horse-riding this afternoon. He said you'd told him he could ride Blitzen – is that right?"

"Yes."

The Malfoy stables had some of the finest thoroughbreds in the wizarding world. Ironically, Purebloods still tended to favour riding horses over other animals such as hippogriffs.

"I quite fancy a ride too. Do you want to come too?"

There was a brief pause. "I have to go out. In a few minutes actually. I'm late as it is."

"Right." Hermione tried to hide the disappointment in her voice.

The atmosphere grew heavy and silent around them again. That knot in her belly would not go away. Hermione squirmed against it. She watched his hands as he ate. They moved with masculine grace and dexterity. His shirt sleeves were rolled back and she noted the hairs on his muscled arms, much darker than those on his head. Desire was rising in her so quickly she almost had to turn and run from him. Just at that moment he pushed back his chair and stood.

"I hope you're feeling better. I have to be going. Goodbye, Miss Granger."

She almost wept when he still did not use her first name.

"Lucius! When are you back?"

He looked back, surprised at her need to know. "Not long. Early evening."

"Thank you for ... sorting out my hand and ... breakfast."

For a moment she thought he was going to cross back to her again. He opened his mouth, his eyes skittering, reflecting confused thoughts.

"You're welcome. Goodbye."

And he left.

-xxoOoxx-

Hermione walked back upstairs slowly. Her skin was tingling, her belly writhing with thwarted desire. She gripped the banister and remembered – remembered the feel of his hands on her, the sight of her blood staining his fingers, fingers she wanted on her again, in her.

Reaching the head of the stairs she saw a figure staring out over the lawns through the window at the top. He was silhouetted, his long hair falling around a tall and noble frame. The man turned and placed the arm with the hook on his hip. His waistcoat, his breeches disappearing into those immaculate black boots ... her desire had an outlet, her thwarted hopes could be buried. She could not stop herself.

Breaking almost into a run, Hermione rushed over to Hook and pulled him into her desperately, forcing his mouth open with her lips and teeth, tasting again that tang of blood. She pushed herself against the length of him and felt him rising swiftly in greeting. Hook responded immediately, forcing her back brutally to a wall and tearing at her clothes with his fingers and the curved blade on his other arm.

"James, James, hurry ... do it, do it now ..."

He grinned maliciously. "Good girl."

"No. Not good. Not good. Do it, do it." She was scrabbling at his breeches, desperately trying to release his cock to her.

Hook held her hard, his voice thick with darkness. "Not good, eh? You want me to show you? You want me to show you what I can be? You want bad? I can show you bad."

She nodded desperately, pulling his head into her, down to her neck where she gasped in pained delight when the sharpness of his teeth dug into her so much she knew they had broken the flesh.

They somehow made it into the bedroom and kicked the door shut.

"I'll show you bad, my girl. I can be so very, _very _bad." His words were accompanied by rips and slices on her clothes with his hook until she stood naked before him. "On your hands and knees."

She dropped immediately and found herself almost delirious with desire.

Pulling her hands behind her back, Hook bound her wrists again with the sash from his waist and pushed her down. Then, without another pause he pushed himself hard, deep and full into her and started moving, fucking her so brutally she fell forward onto the floor. He cursed as he fell out and pulled her relentlessly back up to him, moving them both so that her head was braced against the large chair beside the fire. Now he could plough along her as he wished. Gripping the knot around her wrists, he braced himself and thrust hard and fast, grunting with triumph every time he felt himself jolting against her cervix.

Hermione came quickly. Despite the brutality, despite the violent desire of the man within her, she had never needed to come so desperately. She closed her eyes and allowed his cock to drive her to one of the most explosive orgasms she had ever had. Her arms ached, her neck was straining, but she did not care, she felt only Man within her.

And still he continued. He seemed entirely absorbed in himself, the slicking of his cock as it crammed itself into her body melting into the sounds of his guttural grunts of pleasure. He had taken off his hook on reaching the bedroom. She no longer minded his maimed arm. The mutilated flesh had become to her as precious as all other parts of him. She lavished attention on it as she did all other parts of him. And he would howl with rapture as if it was as sensitive again as his cock.

He was hitting her inside so sublimely that she did not even need to consider her clit. She could feel the approach of another orgasm, and thought he must be about to come too, when he slowed amidst ragged, concerted breaths and she felt something different, higher up, edging into her arse. He had put at least two fingers deep into her and was circling and teasing exquisitely.

She moaned out, flinging her head back in delicious joy. Hook gave out a soft chuckle and leant over her, working his fingers harder within, three now, while his cock continued to plunge relentlessly into her. His hair tickled her shoulders, his hot breath came hard against her ear.

"Dost thou like that, my beauty?"

He would use this archaic language on occasion, knowing how it turned her on yet more. The paradox of the words and what he was now doing to her body made her squirm and wriggle in ecstatic anticipation.

"Yes ..." she could barely groan.

"Dost thou want more?"

His voice teased her, easing into her mind as smoothly as his cock eased into her pussy. "Dost thou want to feel Hook as deep in blind cupid here as he is in your tight cunt?"

"Yes, yes, please, please ..."

He chuckled again, pushing his fingers even further into her and drawing a sharp groan of expectation from her. "Ay, but thou art indeed a bad, bad wench."

"Do it, James ... do it, please. Look in the drawer beside my bed. Hurry."

He pushed himself back and pulled out of her. "Best be on the bed for this, my little hussy." He yanked her up and dragged her almost harshly to the bed, tossing her upon it. She adjusted immediately, wriggling, squirming and widening her legs for him. Hook went to investigate her bedside cabinet, returning triumphantly with a jar. "Ah, my beauty. I do rather like these enlightened times of yours."

Hermione felt a now-slick finger easing the lubricant into her and then, with barely a hesitation, Hook pushed the large, firm head of his cock into her arse.

With a roar of exultation his head fell back and he drew in a long satisfied breath through his nose. But Hermione did not allow him time to dwell on the initial sensation, pushing back against him and forcing him deeper into her.

She was so open, so ready for him, that there was little resistance. The tightness relaxed for him and he surged forward again, filling her with burning intensity. Hermione's grunt of pained perfection was muffled in the sheets. Hook exclaimed again as he found himself buried to the hilt in her. "Now there is joy!"

He at last took a moment to steady himself, his breath coming hard and heavy through his flared nostrils, his left hand digging into Hermione's hip, holding her against him. But then she squirmed again, pulling off a little only to push onto him immediately. He grinned, his head cocked, his hair tumbling to the side. He brought his hand up to caress over her buttocks, noting his own rigid flesh as it corkscrewed into the tight ring of her anus.

"Thou hast been buggered good and proper before, it would seem. Now, brace thyself hard, for you will take all of me!"

He brought his hand down hard on her rump, causing her to yelp back in shock. And then, with another sharp suck of breath, he pulled out, and with no warning plunged full into her again, blinding her with sensation. Hermione gasped as her flesh seared to accommodate him. He spanked her hard once more then did it again, his cock dragging out of her before pushing hard and hot back in fully. She cried out, but soon changed the sound into a groan of sheer rapture. He leaned over, stroking her damp hair from her face and whispering in her ear. "Too much, my beauty?"

She shook her head.

"I thought not. What a good sweet fuck you are, my little slattern, letting Hook roger your cunny, your mouth and now your backside. But then, that's why I'm here, isn't it? That is why thou hast brought me into thy bed. To make you cry out with pleasure and rapture and sweet pain. Thou knowest the pleasure of the pain, the good of the bad. You need it, don't you?" He was fucking her arse with sure and certain insistence now, pouring his words into her as sure as he was about to pour his seed into her. "Don't you!" He ploughed along her with a sudden thrust.

"Yes. I want it. I want it so much. Don't stop, don't stop, James."

He could not hold on. Plunging hard and deep he kept up his relentless strokes, holding her bound wrists as her arms, now numb, were pulled behind her back. But just before he came, Hook ceased all movement. His brows creased with wonder and his blue eyes glazed. Then pleasure, more intense than he could remember, ripped through him, propelling his seed with brutal force into the woman upon him. "Now that's good form!" he grunted, clinging to her as his body shuddered. When she felt him hot in her depths, when his cock pressed through her so perfectly, caressing her already ignited flesh, Hermione released her own orgasm, which rippled through her from the hardness of man still stretching her arse so deliciously. She stifled her cries into the sheet, clenching her knuckles hard within their bindings.

When at last their bodies settled, Hook released her arms which fell limp and numb to the sides. He pulled out, remarkably gently, and stroked over her back. Hermione slumped to her side, her breath as rapid as his.

James lay next to her. She glanced across at him. Amidst the blue there sparked now an undeniable scarlet flame. She smiled blearily. "I wanted that. I wanted that so much."

"You may be sore." His voice carried a hint of shame.

"I don't care. You know that. I need to feel it afterwards too."

James cast his eyes over her face, stroking over her full lips. "What am I going to do without you, my darling girl?"

Once again, Hermione felt her eyes prickling. "You will go and you will live, as you are very good at doing."

"The confidence others have in me, like their fear of me, never ceases to surprise and amaze me." He smiled and smoothed his fingers over her face. "How can I go back to torture and death after I have had you?" His smile faded. "How can I go back to a place without you?"

Her tears were falling now. He caught one on his finger.

"Ah! Do not weep for me, my heart. None have done so before; I would not want to spoil my unblemished record." He gave her a wry smirk.

"I can't imagine you not being here."

"Yes, you can. I am but a dream – you know it. And dreams fade. We must grab onto what we have around us, the real, the certain. He is waiting for you, Hermione. You must let him in."

She shook her head. "What do you mean?"

"Come now, you are a bright young thing – do not deceive me or yourself."

"Lucius doesn't want me." She stated it hollowly.

James chuckled. "Ah, do not blame him, my beauty. You only say that to forswear responsibility, to excuse yourself from the perceived shame of desiring him. Cast your doubts aside and admit your feelings to yourself and him."

"How can you do what you've just done to me if you are simply going to hand me over to another man?"

"Well ... you are a woman of great passion – you need _someone_ while you come to your senses. And I am helping you do just that. As for handing you over ... Good form, my dear, good form. For once in my life, I may do something I can be proud of."

She planted another kiss on his chest. "And when you go back, what about Peter?"

"Pan? We shall see. Despite one's best intentions, I admit ... life would be rather dull without the lice-ridden bit of rump fluff to torment."

She smiled softly. "So some things won't change? I'm glad to hear it."

He chuckled and held her closer still.

"I will miss you, James. Don't go yet." Hermione yawned, her mind torn between him, tiredness and the confusion of the other person residing somewhere in the house. "I'm not ready."

He stroked her arm, soothing her as she fell asleep before whispering softly into the still night air, "Neither am I."

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><p><strong>Neither are we, James, but time is catching up with you, as it always will ...<strong>

**Love your reviews. Thank you for keeping them coming (no pun intended) xxx**


	11. Chapter 11  The Pirate's Tale

**I am sorry this one has taken so long. I was really scratching my head about the focus of it and where to end it. Lucius and Hermione's relationship is moving on swiftly, but there was something very important to tie up with Hook first, and this chapter does it. I suppose it should be called 'The Pirate's Tale'. But, as you will see, Hermione is letting go and reaching out, quite literally, to someone else.**

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><p>Hermione remained silent when she woke up the next day. James did not speak either.<p>

Their relationship had gone beyond sexual banter and anachronistic euphemisms. She knew he was fading from her, and he knew, as precious as their relationship was, she wanted Lucius.

But now, given the transparency which arose from intimacy and the approach of departure, she said again what he had avoided explaining before: "You never told me properly how you got into piracy."

James sighed so deeply she feared he was unwell. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the canopy above him, but this time his words came without hesitation.

"I fear the reasons which prompted me are no longer at the forefront of my mind." Hermione closed her fingers around his disfigured arm. "My father, although in a position of power in government, was ... not a good man. I was close to my mother; I adored her. She was, in my eyes, the embodiment of all that was perfect in woman: beautiful, clever, patient, attentive, bestowing the gift of love with perpetual selflessness. But despite giving all that to my father as well as to me, she received nothing in return from him. He had given her his name, his social standing and his wealth; in his eyes that should have been enough.

"I used often to discover my mother weeping. At first I was too young to understand the reasons why. It would pain me, make me want to take away her sorrow. As I grew older I witnessed, and felt, my father's temper both towards her and me. Its frequency when directed at me meant that I became rather immune to its effects, but when I saw him beating my mother, hounding her, deriding and belittling her, I wanted nothing less than to kill him.

"My mother and I would escape occasionally to her sister's home near Aldeburgh, and it was there that I discovered my love for the sea and for sailing. Those were the happiest days I can recall, apart from school days: the days my mother smiled.

"But we would always have to return. I would go back to Eton, leaving her with ... _him_. The guilt led me further to question myself. I feared for her but threw myself into life at school, not only academic life, which I found oddly satisfying, but japes and schemes. I managed to get by undetected for the most part; the other boys did not know how to react to me – I could tell I intimidated them.

"It was in my final year at Eton that my mother grew ill. My father's treatment of her worsened her disease. He continued to torment her, almost blaming her for bringing it on herself. He would drag her along to functions and social engagements even at her weakest, and on returning home would beat her, force himself on her for not being engaging enough in front of his so-called friends. His job protected him. If I had said anything, I would have been laughed to scorn.

"My mother died shortly after I started at Oxford. She had never been open with me about her health, and when the end came I was not there ... a fact that will haunt me forever. My father did not see fit to tell me until after she had gone. I could not bear to be stranded on dry land, as it were, with the pain and the memories. I left Oxford after only a term and joined the navy, rising swiftly to become a senior officer, thinking it was a way to get me as far from my father as I could.

"But one day, upon returning home on leave, I finally confronted him about his treatment of my mother. It took little for us both to react in rage and fury. I had been drinking; he had been drinking more. We fought, at first with swords, then simply with anything at hand, right there in the drawing room of our home. It was a mess, to put it mildly, but I had the better of it and in the end found myself beating him to within an inch of his life. It was only when I glanced up and saw the portrait of my mother staring down at me that I stopped.

"Father cut me off from any money immediately, even that bequeathed me by my mother, and I never saw him again. He died ... I know not when exactly ... I care not, but I hope it was slow and painful. At the same time as he cut me off financially, my standing in the navy started to diminish. I was denied any further promotion, denied a ship of my own. It was my father's doing, I know it. I was forced onto a ship with an incompetent drunkard of a captain and a slovenly crew: the laughing stock of the navy. After one particularly disastrous error, I dared question the captain's authority; our tempers quickly flared and he accused me of mutiny. He himself flogged me, a Lieutenant-Commander – fifty lashings with the cat; he was amazed he hadn't killed me - and then had me chained in the hold where he encouraged the men to come and spit on me and ... other things. As soon as we docked back in Portsmouth, two long months later, I left the navy. I suppose they are still looking for me, but I could not care less. I had no more magnanimity left in me – to the Admiralty or to my fellow humans.

"But the sea was still a preferable alternative to land and the proximity of my father, still alive at that point. I teamed up with a man, as bitter as me, who had also suffered at the hands of his superiors. We bought a small ship and at first tried to set up a trading business between here and the Americas. Business was difficult and I knew that if we were to make our way in the world, it was not going to be through honesty and humility. My father had shown me that. It was apparent that it was easier to get one's way with a little force, and we soon fell into what you so eloquently term 'piracy'. The pain I carried constantly inside dulled any conscience I might have felt. But this so-called partner of mine proved as duplicitous as me. I caught him trying to poison my wine one night after a particularly lucrative ... negotiation. I was a better swordsman than he ... I killed him quite swiftly and surprised myself at how easy it was, how little guilt I felt – it was nothing to the guilt I had felt over my mother.

"Over time I acquired a crew and a reputation, both amongst men and ladies. I soon became used to the idea that my notoriety terrified the former and entranced the latter. I used both to my advantage.

"And then, after years of sailing across nearly every mile of water this earth allows, I found myself, through darkness and dreams, arriving in that place – the Neverland. And there I met him, he who was still young, still guilt-free, still ... _happy_. And he cut off my hand ... little shit.

"I suppose I had grown tired of constant time at sea and the effort of planning and implementing raids. Here was an enemy who would at least stay put, an enemy who was as far removed as possible from the inebriated and depraved excuses for men I had known, men who reminded me only of my own failings, of my own mortality. And so I stayed ... in the Neverland." He sighed once again. "And there it is ... I believe you know the rest."

Hermione was numb. She had lain still, listening to the story of the shattering of his hopes and dreams, of his mother's death and his father's treatment of them both. He had held her all the while and she found herself stroking over the stub of his arm, unaware she was doing it. As his tale at last came to an end, her face was wet with tears.

"I don't know what to say."

"Then you should keep silence." He tightened his grip on her. "We all have a tale to tell, Hermione. What is yours, I wonder? And Malfoy's? I do not expect you to tell me. But your story, and his, will go on, whereas mine, I fear, is drawing to an end."

"No, James ... yours will never end. It will endure, as it has, long after even I am gone. This life you've described to me – that isn't written down anywhere. Where did that come from? Who else if not you could have lived that? Thought that?"

He stared hard at her, his expression completely transparent. "Do you hate me?" For the first time, she detected doubt and fear in his eyes.

She furrowed her brows, a stab of pain shooting through her at his sudden question. "What? Of course not. What on earth do you mean?"

"I am hated. I am loathed. True, I can entrance, I can charm for a mere moment or two, enough to bed a woman, enough to disarm someone long enough to kill them, but then the reality of my dismal situation is revealed and I am as hated and scorned as the devil himself."

"It took more than a mere moment of entrancement to bed me, James. And I knew I wanted you immediately."

"But you are ... you. But even you would, sooner or later, as you yourself said, find me disgusting. It is always the way. It was with her."

"Who?"

"The mother child."

Hermione wrinkled her brows.

"Wendy."

"But she was a little girl. You didn't want her then. You said."

"Not in that way, of course not. But they all adored her. We all adored her. My men, the boys, Pan ... me. Mother ... that is who she was to us all. Mother - without the agony of actually being one. She had my mother's eyes. My mother's eyes before the disappointment of my father."

"That is an awful lot of responsibility to heap on a little girl."

"Ay ... and that is why she left, to grow up in her own time. She came to Neverland seeking adventure and she found instead the burden of Man and Boy before it was due her."

Something struck Hermione suddenly. "But ... how do you know she left?"

"Because I saw her go. And she is no longer there."

"But she left after ..."

"After what?"

She sighed, stroking some hair from his face. He was here now, she may as well say it. "James ... in the book you are swallowed by a crocodile. Not just your hand. A second time ... all of you."

"Oh, that."

"Didn't it happen?"

"Oh, yes, it happened. But I am nothing if not resilient. You seem to forget I have a rather impressive iron hook attached to my wrist. It does tend to come in ... handy."

She giggled at his humour. "So you survived?"

"Of course I survived, woman! How could I be here talking to you now?"

"I ... well ... in the book ..." Hermione stopped fumbling for an explanation. It hurt her head. She smiled softly at him instead. "So you will go back ..." She kissed his chest. "... and you will live ..." And again. "... and thrive." She planted a final deep kiss on his mouth.

When she pulled back he was looking at her, his blue eyes paled with mist. "But I won't have you."

Hermione swallowed to deaden her sorrow. "There will be others, you know. But you do need to actively seek women out and treat them with respect. Not just bodies, James."

"I don't treat you just as a body."

"No. You took the time to get to know me. And you can do that with others."

"I have to say, however, you particular body is ... rather exquisite."

She grinned. His voice had returned to the low seductive drawl she so adored. "In that case, you had better give it some attention."

"That, my dear, is precisely what I was thinking."

He was inside her within the next heartbeat. As he moved firmly but tenderly, coaxing the sweetest pleasure, she stared hard into those blue eyes. She had never seen them so innocent.

"Beautiful, beautiful man."

She held him tight and thought only of giving to him. It was too much for James. He spilled into her quickly before she came, unable to stop himself. Hermione stroked his back, the tips of her fingers soothing any lingering pain.

"I'm sorry, my darling, you didn't ..."

"Shhh ... it really, really doesn't matter. After all you've done for me ..."

Hermione glanced at the clock. It was nearly ten o'clock.

James seemed to voice her thoughts. "It is late. Malfoy will be wondering where you are."

"Will he?"

"Oh yes. And you are wondering where he is."

"I wasn't earlier."

"But you are now."

It was her turn to sigh. "You are right, James – Lucius has a story too. He has been through great suffering; far more than me in many ways. His beliefs – beliefs which were so clear to him, so obvious, through no fault of his own in a way, only through ignorance and the fact that that is what he was brought up to believe - he has had them trampled and ripped apart. It was right that they were - they were fearful deceits and terrible lies - but he was left with nothing: his mind confused, his house desecrated, his soul emptied, his body abused. And he still survived. I hated him. I feel I should hate him still. But I can't. He was a pathetic excuse for a man, but he has, because of what he went through, become a far greater person than he could ever have thought possible. I admire him so much. He has achieved so much since it all ended. I just wish he'd realise that. That's what infuriates me about him."

"What you have told me - why don't you tell him?"

She stared hard at him, but her mind seemed to be elsewhere; she was almost looking through him.

He brought his hand up to her face. "Get dressed and go down to see Lucius."

-xxoOoxx—

Hermione took herself downstairs.

Somehow, Hook's story had reinforced to her not only what a complex man he was, but also how he did not belong in this world. For the first time since bringing him here, she wondered if she had done the right thing. He had suffered so much already, was it sensible to bring him into a place and complicate things even more by stirring up deep emotions again? Her desire for him remained largely physical, but there was no denying their connection and the emotional stability she was currently providing him. It was almost too much for them both. When the time came for him to return, it would be right.

Looking around, she was deeply disappointed that Lucius seemed to have gone out. She glanced down at her hand; he had healed it perfectly and there was only a faint scar remaining. She placed her palm over the scar, remembering the warmth of his fingers on her, how her blood had flowed over his own hand.

The door opened behind her. She turned, hoping to see the blond man. It was James. She couldn't prevent her heart sinking a little.

"I came down for some food." He seemed bewildered. "I was feeling rather ... odd."

Hermione approached and took his hand. "James ... you know what's happening, don't you?"

"I will be leaving you soon."

She nodded, reaching up a hand and stroking his face.

"Then I must make sure that you, and I, are ready for it."

Hermione stared once again into the blue of his eyes and reached up for a soft, chaste kiss with closed lips. Hook brought his hand up to hold her into him and deepened the kiss. She wanted to assure him of the memory of her. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she opened her mouth to him, allowing him to push his tongue searchingly into her, knowing he needed the affirmation at that moment more than her.

Hook eventually tore his mouth from her lips and moved down to kiss her neck hungrily, while his hand dropped to reach inside and find her naked breast, capturing the nipple between thumb and forefinger. Hermione would not stop him now; his body was seeking her out in desperation. She bared her flesh and held him hard against her; he needed it. After all he had told her, her own soft emotive cry caught on the air.

Hermione opened her eyes and they fell instantly on a man standing in the doorway, staring across at them.

Lucius' face was passive, lacking any discernible emotion, but all colour had drained from it and he seemed unable to move. He looked unblinkingly at the sight before him.

Hermione felt her heart drop like a stone. She pushed James away from her almost violently and stepped back instantly, causing him to stumble forward.

The pirate spun and saw Lucius. For once, he said nothing, no witty one-liner, no wry explanation. But eventually, still looking at Malfoy, with slow deliberation, he brought up his hand and drew his finger along his bottom lip, as if savouring what he had just tasted.

Hermione thought she could see the merest flicker cross Lucius' face. She knew she was not hiding her emotion. She was burning up, her breathing heavy and desperate.

Lucius turned back into the corridor and walked away from them. Without a glance at Hook she ran after him.

"Lucius! Please!"

She caught up with him, grabbing his arm and pulling him around to her. His face was as unreadable as ever.

"Yes?"

"It's really ... nothing ..."

"It is of no matter to me what you get up to, Miss Granger."

"Please stop calling me that. Lucius, _please _..."

He stood looking down at her, his nostrils flared, his high cheekbones now tinged pink.

"It's not all it seems, you know. He has been good to me, good _for _me, when I needed him, but he's only here to ..."

"You may do as you wish. Why are you taking the time to explain yourself to me?"

"Lucius, I ... you know what I mean ... _you know_ ..." She could feel her eyes hot and sharp. Her hand came out instinctively and took his, clasping his fingers hard. For a time he simply stared down at their conjoined hands as if he could not quite process what he was seeing.

He swallowed and leaned into her slightly, almost about to take a step towards her. Then Lucius' eyes squeezed tight shut and he held her fingers so hard it hurt.

"_What are you doing to me?"_ His words were so hoarse as to be almost thoughts which had escaped illicitly.

Hermione could only stare, her cheeks burning, her head shaking helplessly from side to side.

Then dropping her hands suddenly, he turned and walked off, leaving her once again.

-xxoOoxx-

It was only James and Hermione at lunch. Hermione didn't speak at all.

"I think at last things are falling into place," he declared softly as he finished.

Hermione dropped her head and rubbed her eyes. "Don't."

"A good thing too. My time is nearly done."

And with that, Hermione's tears broke out with a sudden explosive sob and she ran from the room.

James did not come to her room that evening and was therefore surprised to hear a knock on his own door just after midnight.

"I don't want to be on my own." Hermione was standing there, her eyes red from crying, her lips swollen.

She had not come to him for sex. They both knew that. He undressed her carefully, innocently almost, down to her underwear, before she went to lie still and silent on his bed, her legs curled up into her. James lay beside her, wrapping warm encompassing limbs around her and rocking her gently, surrounding her in his aroma of vanilla and brandy and sea. For the briefest moment, Hermione thought that this is what it must feel like to be on his ship, to be cocooned by the ocean and the sensual, perpetual balm of James Hook.

But only for a moment. In her last conscious moments before sleep took her, it was not the ocean blue of James Hook's eyes which glinted in her mind, but the stormy grey of Lucius Malfoy's.

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><p><strong>Sigh.<strong>

**Any thoughts on this chapter are greatly appreciated. LL x**


	12. Chapter 12

**After Hook's story last time, there is no let up on the emotional front ... I hope you get a lot out of this chapter and thank you all for your support and praise for this story. I have written most of the rest of it, so you will not have to wait too much longer for a ... conclusion.**

**A little note: '_Esse quam videri' _is a Latin phrase, often used as a motto, which means 'to be and not to seem to be'.**

**Enjoy, if that is the word. x**

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><p>Hermione had written a detailed report to the Ministry about her success with James. It had been enchanted with detailed charms providing evidence of the truth and effectiveness of her magic. The morning after spending the night in James' room, she received a reply by owl. Her employers were thrilled at her achievements and were offering her a pay rise and a promotion, amongst other things. Hermione sat at her table in the library and read the long missive with mixed emotions.<p>

"Good news?" James slipped into the room unobtrusively and came and perched on the edge of the desk.

"Yes, I suppose it is," she sighed.

"You don't sound very sure."

"They want me to continue with my research, but ... under different circumstances. But they're very impressed with what I've done. I have you to thank for that. You're something of a wonder. They'd be swarming all over you if I hadn't told them to leave well alone for fear of how it would affect you. And they know you'll soon be disa ..." She let her voice trail off. There was a moment of silence.

"How long do I have?"

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes damp. "I can't let you slip away without my magic, James. I need to send you back safely while you're still ... you know ... healthy. You know you've been feeling strange lately."

"Not all the time."

"That's the problem. You don't know when things are going to take a turn for the worse. We should do it within the next day or so."

His face blanched but he eventually managed a wry smirk. "I wonder if Pan has missed me?"

"Neverland wouldn't be Neverland without you."

James looked over at her and spoke suddenly and impulsively. "Come with me."

Hermione gave a soft remorseful smile. She said nothing but slowly shook her head.

He inhaled deeply. "No ... I suspected not. You see, you have confused me, my girl. Now that the time is nearly upon me ... I fear I may be lacking the resolve I have always been so sure of."

She stood up and moved to him, resting her forehead on his and stroking his hair. He reached up with his hook and pushed her hair off her shoulders. Hermione took the wooden base in her hands and studied the metal, running her fingers delicately over it.

"Bloody thing," he stated.

"You make the most of it. You certainly don't allow yourself to be disadvantaged. You give the impression you prefer it to a hand."

He raised his eyebrows indignantly. "I hate it. I loathe and detest it. It is darkness and malice and regret. It is the worst of me and I cannot be rid of it. It is like a canker, a diseased growth rotting my body and soul. It ..." He looked into her eyes. "..._disgusts_ me."

Hermione stroked his face and planted a soft kiss on his forehead. His hand came around her waist and pulled her into him, his lips searching for hers. She allowed him a slight kiss then found herself pulling back. Hook quested down her neck hungrily for more, pulling her between his legs where she could feel his desire hard and urgent already. But this time her hands came up to his shoulders and held him back.

"James ..."

He ignored her.

"James. No ... no ..." Hermione pushed hard and escaped his grasp. For a moment she saw a flash of red in his eyes before his visage relaxed and he smiled that small regretful smile again. And then, with steady footsteps, he walked from the room.

-xxoOoxx-

James Hook came down the stairs, his heart once again slow and heavy. As his feet reached the hallway, the front door was flung open and Lucius paced in. He had clearly been riding and his face was alight and invigorated. Shrugging his riding coat from his broad shoulders and tossing it onto a chair in the corner, he glanced over at Hook. He did not look particularly pleased to see the pirate. "Why don't you go for a ride, Hook? I told you you could ride Blitzen. He has a bit of spirit; takes a decent handler, but I'm sure you're up to it. The weather is due to change later. Go now. It'll do you good; you've been looking a little peaky recently," he said, his lips curling into a subtle sneer.

Hook sniffed in. "I miss the sea air."

"Ah well, you'll be back there soon enough."

"Can't wait to be rid of me, eh, Malfoy?"

"I didn't say that."

"But that is what you meant."

"I've enjoyed your company." Lucius' tone lacked conviction. "Still, I'm sure you have your own life to be getting on with. A man needs his independence and sense of purpose, after all."

"And you would know all about a sense of purpose, would you, Malfoy?"

Lucius tensed. "I don't need to shout about my achievements and abilities. I simply ... get on with things."

"Do you now? And has that always been the case?"

"I like to think so."

"Even things you are ashamed of?"

"Don't talk to me about past regrets, Hook. In your case, that would not be advisable."

"But at least I do not pretend to be something I'm not, Malfoy. _Esse quam videri_ and all that."

Lucius stepped into him, his eyes flaring. "You are not in a position to judge me, Hook. There were times when, for the sake of my situation, my family and my own survival, I had to present a different persona to that which I perhaps truly was. I went through a period of great personal turmoil. But for several years now, after suffering that degradation and humiliation, I have come to a fuller realisation of self."

Hook merely laughed, immediately and loudly. Lucius strode across to him and jabbed his forefinger in his face, almost striking him. "Don't you ever bloody laugh at me. You! Who are you to preach to me about leading a life of substance? _What _are you? You are no more than an illusion, a dark fantasy ... a _chimera_."

Hook raised himself tall, his eyes flashing. He held Lucius' stare and started a slow pace around him, his words coming ominously. "You fear me, Malfoy. Like all men, you fear me, but you more than others, because you know better than most that I represent the best and worst in man. If I am an illusion, how have I left a very real trail of destruction in my wake? Robbing mothers of their sons, daughters of their inheritance, maidens of their innocence? Those are real lives, Malfoy. Real lives - destroyed. Familiar, Malfoy? You fear me, as you see yourself in me. What vile things have you done in your lifetime? I know they are many. And for what? At least I had the fire of vengeance to propel me. Did you, Malfoy? What were your motives in devastating lives?"

Lucius' fingers curled into tight fists. His words were thin and bitter. "I think you have outstayed your welcome, Hook."

"And what of the best of me, Malfoy?" Hook glanced up the stairs towards the library. "The part that has given her more pleasure and vitality than she knew possible. The part that has rendered her life so vivid and glorious these last few weeks that she has truly _lived._ I knew exactly and immediately what she wanted. I knew exactly how to give it to her. And she craved and wanted me as I was here for her. You, on the other hand, are blind. Blind to what is staring you straight in the face. You are too coward to admit what you want as you are terrified of revealing all you are to her ... and to yourself. Here at last you have the chance to truly live, to truly know life, and you cannot even look her in the eye. _A fuller realisation of self!_ Those words will stick in your throat and choke the life from you." Hook spat on the floor in front of Lucius' boots.

Lucius stared ahead of him, every fibre in his being stringently primed.

"I think ..." He turned to meet Hook's eyes. "... we should continue this discussion elsewhere."

"By all means. We never did finish that bout, did we?"

Lucius turned immediately and strode down the corridor to the ballroom. Hook followed. The windows in the room had been shuttered up overnight and Lucius paced quickly over to them and flung them wide, allowing a sudden stream of light to pierce the broad space. Dust thrown up by his movement jerked erratically as if awakened by the sudden glare.

"Nothing like a little swordplay to stir the blood," quipped Hook, his temper held at bay for now.

"Your blood doesn't need more stirring, Hook."

"I was not referring to _my_ blood."

Lucius' body was still tense, but with dignity he crossed to the fencing cabinet and took out the safety-tipped foils. There followed that now familiar mocking chuckle. Hook came up to him and drawled menacingly, "Come, Malfoy. You proved yourself a fine swordsman. We are both gentlemen, are we not? I think ... after that little _debate_ ... we can raise the stakes slightly. I suggest ... this."

Hook had reached into the cabinet and taken down a sabre. The exquisitely sharp point of its blade glinted in the shafts of sunlight shining through the high windows. It was not tipped.

Lucius sneered. Hook's eyebrows rose.

"What, Malfoy? Do you lack confidence in your own abilities? Have no fear," he chuckled, "I'll go easy on you."

With that Lucius grabbed another sabre from the cabinet.

"These were my great-great-great grandfather's. He was a champion swordsman in the days when Purebloods used swords hand in hand with wands. A noble art. The skill was passed down the generations of Malfoy men. There will be no need to _go easy on me_, Hook."

"Jolly good show, old chap. Glad to hear it." Hook sauntered rakishly to the middle of the room, slicing his sword through the air with undeniable grace.

Malfoy glared, his other fist clenched tight. Hook was stripping off his shirt and boots and soon stood in the middle of the room barefooted in only his breeches.

Lucius looked at him. "These swords will draw blood, Hook. Don't you want something on to protect you?"

"A little blood never did any harm, Malfoy, surely you know that. In any case, I'm sure the ensuing tender caresses of Miss Granger will be balm enough."

Lucius' face twinged but in the next instant he found himself too removing his shirt and boots, his long, pale torso almost luminous against the black of his trousers. He stepped forward. Hook took up a position opposite him.

"En garde."

They started remarkably respectfully considering the animosity which had brought them to this point. Eyeing the other warily, they at first attempted little apart from the occasional advance and lunge. Any attempts to break through the other's guard resulted in swift parries on both sides.

"You fight well, Malfoy," commented Hook, his tone undeniably condescending.

Lucius ignored him and set himself ready for the next attempt. "Fence."

Hook's eyes hardened somewhat and he lunged forward several times, forcing Lucius into an awkward position. Hook at last broke through and nicked Lucius' upper arm, causing the blond man to inhale sharply and look to the wound which seeped red instantly.

Hook chuckled, stepping back to start anew. "First blood to me, Malfoy. Never take your eye off the game."

With a flare of his eyes, Lucius was reenergised and in the next instant had lunged forward. Hook engaged immediately, parrying. They carried on through it, the rules of combat becoming muddied. Neither complained. Hook broke through Lucius' guard again, this time producing a scratch some two inches long across his chest. Lucius grimaced, not in pain but fury. He paced to a chair and wiped the blood off with a towel, immediately turning to start again.

"More, Malfoy? Things seem a little one-sided at the moment."

Lucius' nostrils flared and he immediately took up position. "Fence."

He advanced on Hook ferociously now, and at last the pirate's defences were breached. Lucius lunged forward with a grunt and caught Hook on his side, just below the ribs.

Hook sucked in a breath, drops of his blood falling onto the floor.

"Good touch, Malfoy." The words this time were sneered out. He advanced on Lucius suddenly but the wizard proved surprisingly agile and dodged him. Any fencing conventions were now forgotten. This was no carefully orchestrated bout; the two men were duelling; rules were abandoned.

They sliced and attacked and darted, pushing each other across the room before moving into a better position. Both managed several more touches, piercing and scratching flesh on arms and torsos. The red wetness of blood seeping from their wounds mingled with the dew of sweat glistening now on their faces and bodies. Grunts of masculine rivalry mingled with the sharp clash of metal on metal in the dense air. Long hair clung to ferocious faces and their eyes glowed with exhilarated passion.

"It's all coming out now, Malfoy. Blood will always out. Remember it well: _esse quam videri."_ Hook paused with heavy breaths and took a step backwards but still kept his sabre ready before him, defending himself against the hungry tip of Lucius' sword.

And now, Hook the Villain could not resist: Villain, which had formed in him through torment and disappointment and guilt, overrode all else, especially when confronted with fellow Man, especially when confronted with Man who would have what Hook, once again, would not have. "I have not built up a sweat like this since I went at Miss Granger on all fours the other day."

Lucius roared, lunging for him, only to be parried.

Hook laughed aloud and spun to block his next attack.

"Oh yes. She certainly has stamina ... and flexibility, you know. But, come to think of it ... you don't know, do you?"

Lucius' sword ripped across him, forcing Hook to leap back, but still he managed to evade the blade. His words continued, and his eyes never left Lucius' face as he drew reaction from him.

"I have never known a woman to be so receptive to pleasure. She will take from me all night. And I will ride her all night; I never tire of being inside her sweet tight cunny; she fits me like a glove."

The rage in Lucius was by now uncontainable. Hook's eyes flashed and for a moment he could no longer defend himself properly. He simply held his sword above him while Lucius hurled his blade down onto it time and again, a grunting wail drawn from him in time with each slice. Hook was forced backward and staggered, falling to the ground, his sword clattering noisily away from him. With a cry of furious triumph, Lucius stood above him, tall and powerful, his magic forgotten and unnecessary, the rage of Man enough to drive him towards victory. The tip of his sword pointed straight against the neck of the pirate, powerless before him on the floor. Lucius' breath came fast and heavy, and his hair, uncharacteristically dark now with sweat, clung to the damp heat of his forehead.

"I have put up with enough, Hook. I want you out of my house and out of my life."

Hook was breathing heavily, glancing warily at the sword.

"And here I was thinking we got on, Malfoy. Seems Miss Granger can show you for who you truly are after all. Yes, you want me out of your house, and out of her body so you can have your own little trip up Cock Alley with her."

Lucius' nostrils flared and he pressed his arm forward. The point of his blade broke through the skin of Hook's throat. The seep of dark blood began oozing out.

The door suddenly banged open.

"Lucius?"

The wizard spun his head to find Hermione standing there, mouth open, eyes wide with confused horror at the sight of the two men, half-naked, bloodied and wet with sweat, Lucius standing over Hook with his sword edging into his neck.

The blade slackened and the tension on Hook's neck eased.

In the next instant, the pirate had leapt to his feet, twisted the sabre from Lucius' grasp and pulled the blond man's arm up high behind his back. He gripped his other arm tight and dug his hook hard into the wizard's neck, the point angling in just where his artery pulsed hard and fast in his throat. Hook whispered with icy malice against his ear, "Like I said ... _Never _take your eye off the game."

Hermione was frozen to the spot. She could only watch in horror as the pirate captain, his eyes glowing red with passion, locked Lucius tight against him and pressed his hook so hard into his throat a trickle of blood started to flow down, pooling in the hollow where his collar bones met.

"Look at her," Hook hissed. "_Look at her, Malfoy._ You want her now, don't you? You want to go to her and make her scream as I have done, make her cry out for you, for your body, for your cock. I have heard those words, every night, every day. I've had her, taken her, used her and had her use me, while you stood by like the limp and pathetic fool you are. You've known that feeling for a long time, haven't you? That feeling of being debased and degraded in your own home. And you just take it. It's becoming a bit of a habit, isn't it, Malfoy? A pawn, a cuckold in your own home. Call yourself a man? You are not worthy of the term."

Lucius' face twisted in despair. He struggled but Hook had him fast, and the cold metal sharpness was digging in even harder now. Hook's face was twisted in a manic grimace of triumph. He was barely aware of Hermione. All his determination and will was directed at Malfoy and the power he suddenly held over him.

But Hermione was certainly aware of James Hook, and at that instant to her, as he had said he would be, he was disgusting.

She saw his features twist into a snarl of imminent victory and she saw the sharp sweetness of his hook digging its way persistently into the pale flesh of Lucius' throat.

"James! Stop it!"

It was as if Hermione was loosed from a gun. She darted over and grabbed desperately onto his hook, pulling it away from Lucius and freeing him from the pirate's grasp. It cut her hand badly. Breathing deeply, Hook at last dropped Lucius like a rag doll and stepped back, dragging in breaths through his nose.

Hermione stood staring at Hook, a look of pitied revulsion on her face. Lucius barely glanced at either of them before pacing from the room, clutching his hand to his throat.

Hook stared hard back at her, raising himself as tall as he could. For a moment they both simply stood. "You know who I am. You more than anyone. You knew it before I came to you." She could not speak. A tear dropped from her staring eyes. He turned his back on her. "You are as much a fool as he. Go."

At first she could not move, but the pirate did not turn back to her, and with sudden realisation, she turned and ran after Lucius.

She found him in the kitchen, still only half-dressed, cleaning his wound, leaning heavily over the sink. Having rushed to get to him, she now had to concentrate to slow her steps. She asked as evenly as she could, "Are you alright?"

He did not speak.

She approached him cautiously. "Let me see."

Lucius brushed her aside. "Leave me."

She didn't. She came over and reached up to turn him towards her. Amidst the salt of sweat and copper of blood she smelt something new, something entirely him: lavender.

Lucius tutted half-heartedly but at length let himself be guided. Hermione hissed as she saw the wound. It was leaking blood unstoppably; if she was not a witch he would have needed urgent medical attention. Hermione withdrew her wand. "We need to hurry."

Incanting the complicated spell needed for a potentially mortal wound, she drew her wand carefully along his pierced flesh.

He grimaced with pain as the magic worked deeply on him. But it worked well. The wound sealed itself immediately. Hermione exhaled with relief.

"There. Now we're even." She glanced in reference at her hand. Lucius looked down too. They both recoiled in shock. Her other hand was bleeding badly from the deep cut the hook had inflicted when she had grabbed it. She hadn't noticed until now.

"It seems not," said Lucius. He took her wand from her and instantly healed her again.

Hermione closed her eyes as the enormity of what had happened started to sink in. "Thank you," she murmured.

"And you_."_ His words were sincere but spoken almost shamefully and inaudibly.

Hermione stepped back and sat at the table, her head slumping into her hands. "What the hell were you doing?"

"Fighting."

"I thought you two got on."

"Apparently not."

"You could have killed each other."

"I think that was generally the reasoning behind it."

"What the hell were you fighting about?"

He turned away. They fell silent. Lucius took a long drink of water before stating emphatically, "I want the man out of my house."

"He'll be going very soon."

He thumped his hand down suddenly on the marble worktop. "I want things back to how they were before all this. Ever since he came ... things have been so ... _bloody confusing_. But not just him. Not just that."

His passionate fury unsettled her. She now felt her own emotions rising unstoppably. "_What,_ Lucius? What do you mean?"

His back remained turned away and his head hung down at first, but then he threw it up, the damp lengths writhing down his naked back. He was wrestling with himself. "Ever since _you _came. Ever since you first bloody set foot in this house."

She stared. His back was straining as he leaned over. Despite the desolation of the moment, she could not take her eyes from the sinews and glow of perspiration which clung to the smooth skin stretching over the broad muscles. She swallowed a sob. His words hurled themselves round her consciousness again, prompting her own anger and indignation.

Hermione pushed herself to her feet and spoke with as much defiance as she could muster. "Well, you'll be pleased to know that I won't be troubling you with my presence for much longer."

"What?" He at last turned a little towards her.

"The Ministry has recalled me. I told them about the success with James and they are keen now for me to focus my attention on fictional characters rather than historical ones. They want me to work back at the Ministry library."

He darted his eyes to hers then looked away again swiftly. She waited for anything from him: an expression of appreciation, regret, relief, a farewell even. Anything. He gave her nothing.

She tried to leave, but found her feet would not move. "Lucius ... I ..."

"Does telling them about your success with Hook include details of your rutting?" His words were spat out with sudden ferocity. He faced her full on at last, looking down his nose at her.

Hermione's eyes flared bright with shocked anger. She had never wanted to strike someone so much, but she reined in her fury and planted her feet firmly.

"You bastard. Don't you dare stoop so low."

The corner of his eye twitched and his jaw worked frantically, but he said nothing.

Hermione took several rigid steps towards him, searching the grey of his eyes. They were as alight as hers. "For your information, James will only be here for a day or two longer. The magic is wearing off. He needs to be sent back before the deterioration affects him."

"Sent back?" he sneered. "Now that you've had your fill."

This time she did hit him. She slapped him so hard that his bottom lip caught a tooth and immediately seeped crimson blood. Lucius' head was turned with the impact of the strike and he brought his hand up at the taste of his blood, catching it on his fingers and glancing down at it with a grimace of surprise.

"How unrefined. Still, I would expect no less from a ..." He stopped, his eyes averted.

Her heart pulsed in agony. "Go on, _Mr Malfoy_, say it ... _say it."_

Lucius shut his eyes, turning his head from her again.

And then Hermione's soul poured out and she started talking, her stream of consciousness emerging unstoppably. She barely looked at him as her thoughts cascaded from her.

"For months I have sat with you, talked with you, tried so hard at every turn. Never once initially did you offer me a word of welcome, yet I didn't complain; I can do without social convention. I thought we got on. I liked talking to you. I thought that I … that I liked _you_. I was willing to forgive you the past. I _did_ forgive you. Do you know what it was like for me to live in this house to begin with? To live in this place where I was tortured to the point of death? But I stayed; I wanted to stay. And then it seemed to go well; you tolerated me, we chatted, and that was good, that was enough. But then I thought, stupidly, that there was more. I would catch you looking at me, I …" She shut her eyes tight. "... would look at _you_. I grew to enjoy your company, to enjoy seeing you in the mornings. But the more I … thought maybe there was something … the more distant you became. I reminded myself of who you were, of who I was in your eyes, and I subverted all my … hopes, wishes … whatever it is you call them, I don't know! I didn't ask anything of you. Ever. Perhaps I should have done. Perhaps I should have thrown myself at you and been chucked out with the rest of the Malfoy Manor rubbish as I was sure would happen if I did. The longer I was here the more withdrawn you were from me until I felt my life slipping away. I almost asked to be taken off the assignment. But then there was a breakthrough with the magic. When James came, here was something, _someone_ who immediately responded to me in every way, who made me feel special … who made me feel _wanted_, I suppose because I had always imagined him like that. And he seemed so … uncomplicated … he simply said it like it was, as he wanted and desired. After that initial spark died down with you, at best I felt you sometimes enjoyed discussing your collection with me, but that was it. I was the Mudblood, and you would tolerate my presence in your home reluctantly. Recently we've had times when ... things have been good again. But still, you give me nothing. Nothing. And I want so much … _so much,_ Lucius. I would have given you … But never once did I feel you wanted anything from me in return. I was free to do as I wished. And I did. I needed to. I had so much … desire, so much longing inside me, Lucius. And you weren't there. You were never there.

"I am going now. I'll stay in my room now, and after tonight I'll do my best to send James back and then I'll be gone. You won't ever have to put up with my complicated and unrefined Mudblood ways again."

She turned and without a second glance strode away from him.

She didn't hear his footsteps. The first she knew that he had run to catch up with her was the door slamming in her face. And then hands held her and pulled her round to face him, hard and insistent. At first she thought he was going to strike her as she had done him. But the strength of his hands moved up to cup her face and tilt it towards him. She dared look into his eyes. The grey she was so used to seeing so hollow and distant gleamed now with a sudden radiance. And more than that. His eyes were moist. The slight dampness made them shine even more in the reflected candlelight.

"Hermione …"

At first she didn't understand. The emotional turmoil inside was so overwhelming that her mind did not allow her to process what was happening. The tears which had been pricking her eyes throughout her monologue now seared her, threatening to tumble relentlessly down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry." Lucius spoke so sincerely she gasped audibly with shock. Her face immediately grew wet as her sobs at last heaved out of her.

And then he bent his head and kissed her.

* * *

><p><strong>*deep breath*<strong>

**All I will say is that I will not make you wait long for the next chapter. Oh, and, I really don't expect them, but I do love hearing your thoughts on this story, if you have a moment.**

**LL x**


	13. Chapter 13

**Lots of love to you all. Enjoy. x**

* * *

><p>At first, his touch was so soft, his lips so gentle, that she doubted it was really happening. Her hands wanted to hold, to confirm his reality, but when she reached up to him she came across hot smooth skin and was caught by surprise, suddenly unsure, not of her desire, but as if her years of experience had been stripped away.<p>

He was kissing her still: pliant healing kisses which were now planted over her face gently, absorbing her tears, affirming his presence. She opened her mouth and released a long breath of revelation and at that he was back to her lips, this time hungrily, pressing down, holding her head hard to him. Lucius' mouth was moving over hers, searching for an opening, and she granted it to him, parting her lips and flitting her tongue towards him. He met it with his own and for an age they remained like that, learning each other, listening to the other's breathing, discovering their taste. She could have stayed like that; she could have stayed there, kissing and discovering forever.

_Lavender. _Under his acute masculinity, he was infused with the faint purple of lavender.

Her hands at last dared touch him, and as her fingers came into contact with the taut swell of muscle, she felt the prance of desire within her. Hermione became bolder, curling her hands over his shoulders and pulling him harder yet into her.

His own hands slipped down now, coming to rest in the small of her back, pulling the narrow curve of her waist into him. She felt it immediately: that defined hardness between his legs. A moan of long-harboured need floated from her, prompting him to break away from her mouth and search down her neck.

"Hermione ... my darling ... I'm sorry, I'm sorry, beautiful darling ..." He was murmuring against her skin as if his words would seep into her very soul.

She had known lust so overwhelming in recent days that it would have been so easy to take from him now, right there on the kitchen floor. But she paused, her desire taking her along a different path: slower, longer, an unhurried amble of discovery. Guiding his head, Hermione lifted it to look into his eyes. "Lucius ... make love to me ... please, make love to me."

He kissed her again, but then she felt her legs lifted from beneath her and she became elusively aware that he had picked her up. Curling her arms around his neck, Hermione felt the air cool as they moved through the house. He barely seemed to notice her weight in his arms and she knew they were mounting the stairs. Once at the top he turned to her, his own desire now uncontainable, and brought his mouth down to hers yet again. She kissed him open-mouthed, searching as deep into him as she could. Lucius moved blindly through his own house, drawing her with him, his instinct carrying him along the corridors to his bedroom. The door opened for him and closed silently behind them.

Hermione felt herself placed on his bed. And then he began to undress her, slowly and deliberately. Her want remained undiminished, but he was nurturing it so languidly and carefully that she granted him her patience. The knowledge that at last her hopes were reaching fulfilment maintained her state of anticipatory arousal.

With every morsel of flesh he revealed, he planted a soft, hot kiss on it, igniting it and making her rise up to meet his lips. Her shirt was slipped off and his mouth followed onto her skin, kissing over its breadth. Hermione sighed, tangling her fingers in his hair, holding him to her. He rolled her over carefully so that he could remove her bra, and when her delicate breasts were revealed to him, she heard his own moan of longing. With barely a hesitation his mouth enclosed on a nipple, drawing its pink tightness out even harder upon his tongue. It was too much for Hermione who clenched her fingers on his scalp and pushed him so hard onto her that he nipped instinctively with his teeth.

But then he was moving down, pulling her jeans with him, still kissing, still learning her body with his mouth. When he came close to her core, hidden from him by underwear, she bucked, her desire at such a peak she doubted she could survive it.

"Need you now, need you inside me, Lucius," Hermione moaned, a begging plea to her voice. Still he kissed, travelling up her inner thigh, before finally pulling away with a groan. But he moved back only to free himself. Hermione looked on, her breath now so rapid it hurt. Lucius quickly undid the buttons of his trousers and pushed them down. He wore nothing beneath. A sob caught in Hermione's throat. The reality of him, large and hard, rising up for her, surpassed all her furtive dreams and longings. Now, she existed solely for him and his flesh.

She lay back as he stepped towards her, fully naked. His upper body was still flecked with blood from his fight, but the sweat which now gleamed over it was bred from his own desire.

He bent to her, taking the top of her knickers in those lithe fingers. Lucius hesitated, running the tip of one under the elastic, tickling the sensitive flesh he found there. He glanced up and she gave an affirming smile. With that, he tugged the material down and off, and then nudged her leg gently to the side so that she was revealed to him, dark and wet and ready.

For a moment he hesitated. Lucius' eyes closed briefly, as if he was unworthy of the sight. But then she placed a hand on his shoulder and raised her hips with such a deep groan of need it transferred straight to his raging erection.

He moved quickly and urgently, drawing her leg up around his torso and placing himself ready. When he was sure their eyes were locked together, he entered her.

Hermione's mouth opened with a gasp as she felt his cock squeezing deeper and deeper into her body, so right and true she begged for more.

He pushed harder, more boldly now, and she felt him nudge at her cervix; he was inside her completely. Her face twisted a little as his magnitude imposed itself on her.

"Are you alright?" he queried with sudden concern.

She nodded, clinging onto his flexed shoulders. "I want to feel so much of you."

He pulled out a little, slowly, to enable them both to relish flesh slipping through flesh. Then when she feared she would be empty again, he filled her fully, pushing his cock hard and deep through her.

She moaned as her body found fulfilment. "So good, my darling, so good."

Lucius began to make love to her with such conviction that they both rode it together. He pulled his body up and drew her legs higher around his torso, angling himself for deeper penetration. Thrusting into her with his own guttural groans, he studied his cock as it plunged in and out of her soaking, hungry flesh.

His hand was down, finding that little nub of release. She writhed beneath him as pleasure started its rise in tune with the rhythm of his cock.

"Yes, yes, like that."

"Is that good? Is that right?" He sounded uncertain, but never had Hermione known two bodies so meant for each other. She clenched her pussy, prompting a groan of pleasure from him.

"Yes, yes ..." He rubbed over her clit, circling it while his cock pulled back. "That's so perfect. Do that, just do that."

Lucius' fingers slid through her sodden flesh, coaxing her clit to release her rapture as he continued to cram himself into her.

"There?" He queried again, but now his voice was teasing, as were his fingers, plucking and nuzzling her clit.

She keened, her back arching to propel both his cock and fingers along her. "Yes! Oh, fuck, Lucius!"

The tender decorum Hermione had felt earlier evaporated as her body climbed to the last height before its ecstatic disintegration.

He surged along her, forcing her eyes to widen and stare right into him. "Coming, coming ... coming ..." She wailed, and then she was lost, bucking under him wildly as pleasure ripped through her so profoundly her toes curled.

The sound and sight of Hermione's orgasm raging upon him was nearly enough for Lucius, but he stopped all movement to absorb it and let her feel it fully. Her body took some time for the pleasure to wash out and when she did at last come down, she found him smiling at her gently. She reached up impulsively again to shower him with kisses, but he needed his own release now; his cock was so ready he could concentrate only on being inside her.

Lucius picked up his pace again, thrusting relentlessly along her with desperate grunts. Holding her hips in his hands, he ploughed into her, her flesh, swollen from her own climax, gripping him even more tightly than before. And then, his face twisted in perfect abandon, he burst into her, shooting fast and deep into her body, each release from his cock accompanied by a searing groan of rapture.

When Lucius' breathing finally steadied, he dragged his eyes open and looked almost amazed to find Hermione Granger beneath him, still impaled on his body. He smiled openly with a laugh of delight.

She returned it. "Now we're even," she grinned, repeating her words of earlier.

"Oh no," he mused. "I'm going to keep making up to you for my blind, stubborn idiocy for a very long time to come."

She giggled. "Promise?"

"Most definitely." He kissed her again, unable to be away from her mouth for long.

Finally his body shifted and he slipped out. He lay beside her but still propped himself up on his elbow to stare down at her. With his forefinger, he traced a path over her eyebrows. "I think, Miss Granger, that I may have fallen for you."

Hermione's breath deserted her and she looked away, embarrassed and overwhelmed. "You don't have to say that."

"Yes, I do. No more deceit, Hermione, no more pretence. _Esse quam videri."_

"What?" Her brows creased in ignorance.

"Never mind," he smiled.

Hermione curled her limbs around him, wanting to feel as much of this new body as she could. She spoke heavily. "I don't want to go back to work in London."

"I don't want you to either. But you can come back here at the end of the day ... can't you?" He was uncertain again.

She smiled. "If you'll have me."

He replied by slipping his fingers between her legs and drawing her clit out to fruition again. "I work in London often, you know that. And the Ministry has many dark and secretive areas ..."

Her breath hitched. "You'd know all about those, of course."

"Of course." His fingers rubbed and stroked, dipping into her, searching her to find the key to her pleasure. He did not have to seek very hard; he knew instinctively.

Hermione ground onto him, her brows furrowing as she locked into those grey eyes. "And what do you suggest should happen in those dark and secretive areas?"

"Oh, this and that. Perhaps a little more - _this_ - than that." He pressed hard and swept up with his middle finger at just that moment.

Hermione came suddenly and completely. "God! Lucius! Don't go!"

He smiled in bemusement as her orgasm left her slowly. "I'm not going. I'm here. I'm always here."

Hermione sank into the bed in embarrassment at the words that had slipped from her mouth at her release.

"Are you in love with him?"

"What?" She turned her head to him in shock.

"Hook. Are you in love with him?"

"How can you ask me that after what's just happened?"

"I will accept you as you are, Hermione. But I need to know."

She looked hard into him, creasing her eyes with reassurance. "No. I'm not in love with him. He has been something which I needed, something which awakened the truth in me. He knows that. I care for him deeply, but ... you saw what he is, what he must return to. And I have you. It was always you, Lucius. It was always you I wanted. It just took him to make me realise that."

He couldn't help kissing her again before asking, "Will you tell him about us?"

She sighed softly. "Yes. He's brought us together. In a way that was his purpose here. He sees it that way. His purpose now is to go and fight Pan. That's the right way."

"Is he in love with you?"

Hermione felt herself blushing. "He knows he has to go back. I think he wants to go back."

"That's not what I asked."

She averted her eyes. "I don't know; you'd have to ask him that … but please don't, for both your sakes."

They stayed in bed for the rest of the day and continued their exploration and discovery of each other's bodies. Before supper, Hermione felt more than a twinge of guilt that Hook had been abandoned after the trauma of earlier. When she finally tore herself from Lucius' bed to dress, she spoke distractedly. "I hope he's alright."

"He's a rogue. Of course he's alright."

She glanced out of the window. She could see a solitary figure walking through the gardens.

"He's out there."

Lucius came and looked out of the window with her. "I suppose you should invite him to supper."

"You're sure you two aren't going to attempt to kill each other again?"

"That depends on him."

"You forgive very easily."

"My dear, if I didn't forgive easily, I wouldn't be able to engage with a single person in the world."

She laughed, turning and kissing him once again. "I won't be long. Don't worry. I'm yours, Lucius."

"I know."

-xxoOoxx-

Hermione approached Hook carefully. She found him in the rose garden, although the blooms were now long gone.

"Hello."

He turned and looked on her, although gave no discernible trace of emotion save for the merest trace of a smirk. "Hullo, girly."

She dropped her head with a smile before coming closer. "Are you alright?"

"I am surprised you are concerned for me. I do not deserve your concern, even I admit."

"Yes, you do."

"Only because I am not real."

She sighed. "Lucius is a big boy; he's fine. I can assure you of that."

Hook's eyebrows arched. He looked steadily at her, studying her, and she saw a faint smile curl round his lips. But at the same time, in his eyes, the blue shone a little less brightly. "Ah." He knew. "What needed to be done is done then."

She daren't look at him, but his next words made her look away with a mixture of amusement and shame. "Big boy, you say?"

"Stop it."

James sighed and went to sit on a bench, staring out to the hills beyond. "Then my work here is truly done."

Hermione came and sat beside him. "Were you really going to kill him?"

"Quite possibly. I am much practised in the art."

"What stopped you?"

"You, naturally."

She smiled. "Thank you."

"_Thank you?_ I nearly kill your lover and you thank me. You are a fool, as I thought."

"Thank you for helping us both come to our senses. And thank you for … all you have done for me." She smiled gently and took his hand in hers.

"When are you sending me back?"

"Don't put it like that."

"When?"

"The day after tomorrow. It has to be, James. I don't want you to get hurt." She sighed. "Come and have some supper."

"Will he be there?"

"Yes. He told me to ask you."

Hook chuckled. "He _has _come to his senses."

"There can't be many people who would sit to dinner with a man who earlier had tried to kill them."

"He nearly killed me too. You saw it. I was, as they say, merely defending myself."

She looked at him. He was smirking. Hermione fixed her eyes into his and said forcefully, "Yes, but you would have killed him; he wouldn't have actually followed through with it."

"Are you sure of that?"

She thought hard on his question. "No. But I don't mind not being sure."

Hook grinned. "Ah, but you are a fine wench. You would make a good pirate, or a pirate's woman."

"Well, I was for a few weeks. I'll have to make do with that."

James turned and fixed her with his eyes. She could not prevent the surge in her soul.

"As will I."

And with that she took his hand with a gentle smile and led him back to the house.

-xxoOoxx-

When they reached the dining room Lucius was already waiting. He did not stand up. Hermione huffed. She really couldn't be arsed with ill feeling at this stage. Walking over to Lucius she took him by the hand and practically yanked him out of his chair, but managed to give him a reassuring smile at the same time.

"Right. Shake hands."

The two men couldn't bring themselves to look at each other. They seemed to be fascinated with their own boots. She suddenly knew how a primary school teacher felt when confronted with a playground altercation.

There was silence for a time before Hook at last took a step towards Lucius. He held out his hand abruptly.

"Malfoy. I apologise for trying to kill you."

Hermione nearly laughed out loud, but managed instead simply to roll her eyes.

Lucius tentatively took the hand proffered to him. "Yes, well … I suppose I did aggravate the situation a little. Sorry," he mumbled.

"Good! That's settled then," proclaimed Hermione and sat down immediately. "What's for supper?"

-xxoOoxx—

After supper, Lucius went upstairs and Hermione found herself alone briefly with Hook.

"I suppose this new situation of yours means you won't be coming to me tonight?"

She took his hand and shook her head. "I'm sorry. I ..." She shrugged, not sure what to say. Even now, it pained her to think she would not have him again, but she would not betray Lucius now. She wanted the wizard more than anything. "You know I can't. You understand that. I will miss you. I will miss you so much." Her voice caught.

James brought up his hand and ran his thumb over her lips. "But all you have to do is open your book, and there I will be. One piece of advice, however: don't read the part with the crocodile."

She smiled. Inclining his head, he bent down and kissed her forehead. "Now … let me watch you walk up the stairs. The sight of you from below clad in those breeches of yours will sustain me for many years to come," he smirked.

Hermione chuckled and stepped away from him. And then she did just as he'd asked, ensuring her jeans-clad twenty-first century backside was on full display for the Restoration-clad centuries-old pirate.

-xxoOoxx-

Within twenty seconds of her knocking on Lucius' door he was inside her. She let him move above her for a time, enjoying the heaviness of his body pressing down on her. But then she spun him round and pulled off. With a laugh she evaded his grasping hands. Hermione patted the edge of the bed with a teasing smirk. "Sit."

His eyebrow cocked with impatient inquiry but he did as she instructed. She knelt behind him at first, drawing her hands, palms splayed, over his back, up and along his shoulders before dragging them down over his chest, teasing the nipples with tweaks and plucks. "Why didn't you tell me you had such a beautiful body?"

He groaned. "The opportunity never arose."

She breathed softly against his temples before moving to his ear and taking the lobe between her teeth gently. As she held the succulent flesh in her mouth she glanced down to see his cock so rigid and dripping in need that she couldn't tease any longer. Shuffling around, she swung her leg over him and planted her knees on either side of his hips. She gripped his shoulders and held herself so that the swollen head of his cock was licked with agonising restraint by the wet lips of her pussy.

Lucius flung his hands down to her hips and nearly drove her onto him. "Can't wait. Hermione, please ... want to be inside you."

With a smile she dipped her head to kiss him, letting her tongue search out first and nipping and supping at his mouth. And then, as she continued to do that, she at last lowered her body and allowed his cock to inch into her in a protracted pleasured torture. Her head dropped back as she sank deeper onto him, but so slowly it was accompanied by a roar of frustrated bliss from Lucius.

"More. For fuck's sake, more."

She bit her lip and stopped, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut and dig his fingers into her hips. With a smirk similar to those perfected by him years before, she purred, "I've waited long enough for this, Mr Malfoy. Why rush it now?"

"Because I want to fuck you," he stated emphatically, his lips curling with desperation.

She grinned and at last sank down again, more and more, until his cock was so deep inside her she knew she could not be more complete. Hermione drew her legs around him and clasped him to her, rocking upon him. He moaned as his mouth sought out her skin again, sucking along her shoulder, her collarbone, anything he could connect with. She pressed against him, giving all of herself over.

Lucius was gripping her back so hard she could feel bruises forming. "Move, Hermione, move on me. Fuck me. Please, fuck me." She began to, kneeling around him again and plying and pulling his cock with her pussy. He was lost. His head buried itself in the curve of her neck and he let her ride him, aware of nothing else.

Hermione moved rhythmically and certainly now, delighting in this new cock fitting her so perfectly. But not just any cock: his cock. As her orgasm took her, she cried out, digging nails into his back unknowingly in her need to hold onto him. If she wasn't grounded by the flesh inside her she may have collapsed; her world was spinning so much. Her desperate ecstasy transmitted to him and he came violently, bucking hips forcing his cock up into her and propelling his seed hot and deep into her body. Lucius groaned, loud and triumphant, and closed his mouth upon the flesh under his teeth instinctively, not wounding it, but claiming it and marking it as his. With that, Hermione's pleasure ripped through her again just as his own orgasm started to fade.

They stayed like that for long minutes until their bodies instinctively slid together to lie in bed.

"Sleep with me," murmured Lucius, closing his arms about her. He need not have feared. She was already asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Ah me ...<strong>

**This story has two more chapters to go. I will be sad not to have it to share with you anymore. Thoughts on this, as ever, are read with great pleasure. Thanks for all your lovely reviews. LL x**


	14. Chapter 14

**The penultimate chapter.**

**This story was originally intended to be a relatively short erotic threesome fic involving Hermione, James Hook and Lucius Malfoy, borne of my and several of my friends' ... umm ... 'discussions' about these two men. It grew into so much more than that, and has become a story which has explored these two fascinating characters in great detail and, hopefully, with integrity.**

**But it remains a story of one woman and two men who adore her. I wrote much of this chapter a long time ago when I first started work on the fic. As I continued to write, I really started to have doubts about whether I should include it, as I did not want to cheapen what had gone before. But, having thought long and hard about it, I am happy that it is definitely right here. I sincerely hope that what happens in this chapter is meaningful, honest and beautiful and is the culmination of their journey together. **

**It is an explicit chapter involving a sexual situation which some people may find difficult, but which is a private moment between three people who will never be together again. Clearly, due to the characterisation of two of these people by the same actor in films, I wanted to be very careful - I can assure you there is NO CONTACT intended between the two men – it is all about their devotion to Hermione. And, boy, is she a lucky, lucky lady.**

**PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18. THAT HAS APPLIED TO MOST OF THIS FIC, BUT EVEN MORESO NOW.**

* * *

><p>Hermione spent the morning perfecting the magic needed to send Hook back to Neverland. She had devised it in conjunction with the spells used to render him alive at the start, and therefore there was little needed to do. Her reluctance to finalise things stemmed from her apprehension at losing him. Her heart pained at the thought of him leaving, despite her relationship with Lucius. Her experience with James had been a whirlwind of realisation and discovery; when she thought too hard about it her head would swim at the paradoxical complexity of the man she had created.<p>

And she couldn't pretend she would not miss his body and his sexual potency. She may be complete with Lucius, but the blue eyes of the pirate would never fully leave her soul.

Hermione stared out of the library window again. Two figures on horseback were propelling themselves along a hill to the east of the manor. Lucius and James may have come to a tentative peace, but they were clearly still relishing the game. First one horse was pushed ahead of the other, then the other, always vying, always competing. Hermione turned away. She did not want to see who won.

-xxoOoxx-

Lucius and Hook had gone out early for a ride. After a remarkably even-tempered breakfast during which the truce between them seemed to stand, Hook had asked for a ride on Blitzen. He had not objected when Lucius had suggested accompanying him. The conversation between the two men had cantered freely in time with the horses' hooves. They had been as relaxed with each other as they had in those first days in the house with only the occasional jostle of one-upmanship to spark them both.

When they reached the base of a hill, Lucius had looked to the other man. "First to the top, Hook?"

The pirate had grinned broadly and with a brief nod had turned his horse and set off with a cry of encouragement up the slope. Lucius cursed mildly before racing after. Hook remained ahead for most of it, but Blitzen started to tire just as the ground levelled out and Lucius managed catch him at the last moment.

They reined in their rides, almost as out of breath as the horses.

"Good show, Malfoy. I think you nicked it in the end. Congratulations." Hook reached across and held his hand to Lucius.

Lucius hesitated briefly before taking it. "Call it a draw, Hook. You had the better of it for most of that."

Hook grinned. "You could almost be worthy of Eton, Malfoy."

They walked their horses now, allowing them to recover their stamina gently. The two men settled into conversation again.

"Do you own all this land?"

Lucius pointed to the north. "As far as that river. Do you see? The Malfoys have owned it for eight centuries."

"My father's property was nearly all in property in industrial towns. New money, as they called it." Hook's tongue clicked on his teeth. "Bad form."

They stopped to let the animals graze for a time. "So ..." inquired Hook with a drawl belying his insistence. "How do you find Miss Granger?"

Lucius glanced at him before a smirk tugged at his mouth. "A gentleman will never divulge details, Hook."

There was a moment of surprised tension in the pirate's face. "Hm. Well, luckily I know the details already, every delicious, succulent one of them. Damned relieved you two have finally done the deed before I go. It would have made parting with her harder if I knew she had nobody to keep her bed warm."

Lucius studied him. "You care about her greatly."

"Yes." Hook was staring beyond the river, his face solemn. "But I will go back and I will ... continue. That is my lot." He inhaled deeply, letting the crisp autumn air prick his lungs. "You will look after her, won't you, Malfoy?"

"Of course. I can assure you of that." There was no doubting Lucius' integrity.

Hook moaned suddenly, his head flung back. "I will bloody well miss her, I tell you. She has been a balm to me. And her body, her skin ..." His eyes shut. "You know yourself now: there is none like her. I wish I could have had one last time," he muttered to himself.

"I only want the best for her."

"As do I, Malfoy." A sigh rattled through him. "I am not sure how I will bid her farewell. It will be agony."

"She adores you, I know. Not just for _that,_ but for your conversation, your manner ... your friendship. I want you to know that, despite the fact that you tried to plunge that bloody iron claw of yours into me."

Hook grinned. "It won't happen again, Malfoy. And you have to admit, it served its purpose – _pricking_ you to attention.

"You have been good for her. And for me, as much as it irks me to say it. I was too used to allowing the past to dictate my future. I knew nothing else. When she came she threw me into turmoil. I couldn't respond to her because I had nothing of any emotional substance or self-awareness to latch onto. She captivated me, all of her, right from the start. But what I did have was so deeply buried I was terrified of it. And the fact of what she was, a Mudb ... a _Muggle-born_ ... made me rail against my emotions even more. The stupid hollow ignorance of my past: I always thought of it as an enduring truth; and that I found comforting almost. Only now, even with the horror of the war, have I finally realised how it was in fact smothering me. It took you to drag the truth out."

The other man studied him with a slight smirk. "You know, Malfoy ... if you weren't a wizard, you'd make a bloody good shrink."

Malfoy laughed at Hook throwing his own words back at him.

Lucius looked across his land, ignoring his horse pulling on the reins. "I adore her more than I ever realised. You were right. As much as it galls me to say it, you were bloody right. And now I feel bloody indebted to you too. She'll be desolate when you leave. I want to ease that."

Hook studied him silently before at last saying, "We've got to know each other quite well recently, haven't we, Malfoy?"

"Hmm. Rather better than I would have liked at times."

"I think it's fair to say that we've seen the best and worst of each other."

"I would agree with that." Lucius eyed him with a mixture of sardonic suspicion and curiosity. "What are you getting at, Hook?"

"You're a man of the world, aren't you, Malfoy?"

"I like to think so."

"We've both done many things in our day, some more ... noble than others. But pleasing women ... that has always been something which comes relatively naturally and generously, I suspect, to us both."

"I would hope so."

Hook turned to eye him, the forget-me-not blue glinting. "Malfoy ... I have a proposition for you."

-xxoOoxx-

By late afternoon everything was in place to send Hook back. Hermione was confident she could do it without hurting him in any way. But she wasn't going to attempt it until the next day. She still hadn't got her head around the fact that she was losing him. The coming night would be his last in the house.

She had instructed the house-elves to prepare a feast worthy of a pirate king – lobster and sole and caviar as well as venison from the estate.

When she heard Lucius and James returning from their ride, chatting and laughing together, her heart sank even further. She almost wished she'd sent him back yesterday when his behaviour had been so gruesome and repulsive to her. But as with all imaginings, the mind is fickle, and when she needed him least to be, she found him utterly beguiling once again.

She stood in the hallway when they came in, their faces bright with exertion.

"Good ride?"

"Splendid!" declared James, marching over and planting a deep kiss on her cheek. She blushed scarlet and pulled back, glancing at Lucius' reaction. To her surprise he was grinning broadly and came up to her, taking her head in his hands and kissed her deeply. Now she was embarrassed for James, but when her eyes moved to his he was smiling as warmly as she had ever seen.

She stood awkwardly as the two men melted back into their conversation on gambling misadventures. "Umm. I've arranged dinner. You know, sort of ... a special one ... for James."

"Excellent," smiled Lucius. "Thank you, you wonderful person." Again he kissed her. "I'm bloody starving!"

And with that he paced off to get changed, quickly followed by Hook.

"Right," stated a bewildered Hermione to the empty hallway. Giving herself a shake, she went to see that everything was ready.

-xxoOoxx—

Dinner was everything she hoped it would be. James expressed vocal and effusive appreciation of the food, and the three of them chatted and laughed as if they had known each other for years. He regaled them again with stories of his exploits at sea, many of them so funny Hermione could hardly see for tears of laughter. She was even more amazed to hear Lucius talking freely about parties at the Manor and the drunken escapades of Ministry officials Hermione had only ever known to present the most sombre public faces.

After supper they went into the Red Room and settled with glasses of brandy. Hermione watched the two men as she had that first night they had been in here together. She could not prevent her mind now remembering rather than imagining their bodies upon her and within her. What a difference a few weeks made.

Tucking her legs up around her, she rested her head against the chair and stared over at them. She wasn't especially tired, but her mind blurred as she looked on them, noting the strength of their limbs, the swell of their muscles, even under shirts and trousers, and their eyes, both pairs shining in the reflected firelight. The persistent curling and stirring of desire awakened inside her.

As they finally allowed the fire to die down, Lucius stood and approached her, holding his hand out. "Hermione," he said tenderly, "time for bed."

She glanced up at her blond lover. He was smiling, not a smirk or a grin, but a warm, welcoming smile. She was lost in the grey of his eyes. Giving him her hand, she allowed herself to be tugged to her feet. Immediately, he pulled her into him, his large hands clasping her waist. Instinctively, she coiled her arms around his neck and gave herself to his kiss. _Lavender. _

But just as her mind had almost slipped from the other man in the room there came to her another scent: that faint tinge of vanilla which she had come to adore in recent weeks.

Warm fingers were on her scalp now, but the firm hands of Lucius still held her tight on the waist. But those other fingers were turning her head, guiding it. She didn't open her eyes, there was no need. She was being kissed again, but different now. Soft, tender lips opened hers and a brandy-tinged tongue slipped into her. It was so natural, so wonderful that at first her mind simply accepted it. The tickle of a moustache prickled her skin and she sighed into the warmth inhabiting her. Then more. The other mouth was searching down, kissing those firm blessings she had received so much in the last day over her supple neck. A hand slipped from her waist to smooth over her backside before cupping the giving flesh in a large palm. One hand remained tight on her waist but other fingers were then on her breast, holding it firmly, rubbing over the nipple.

At last she needed the confirmation and opened her eyes. She sucked in a breath to find what her body had already known: Lucius and James were both there, lavishing their attention and adoration on her. They moved within a few inches of each other, not touching, focused only on her, but content, harmonious and giving.

James now moved his lips to her ear and whispered, "I want to say farewell, my dearest girl. I want to remember you forever."

And then it was Lucius taking her head and slipping goodness into her: "Go upstairs. Go to your room and wait for us, my love."

Hermione did not question it; how could she? They let her slip from their grasps and she padded silently from the room, mounting the stairs as if in a dream, but not once hesitating in what she was about to do.

She went into her room, drew the curtains, lit a myriad of candles, nestled on the bed, and waited.

-xxoOoxx—

Hermione lay in the dim night, the shadows shifting and swaying around her, their shapes unidentifiable yet comfortingly familiar. She was lulled by her senses and her eyes fluttered shut. But she would not sleep; she knew what awaited her.

It was the scent first which told her he was there. That faint sweet vanilla which she had noticed as soon as he had first entered her world. And then hair, blacker than the night around her, soft and curled, tickling along her collarbone before flesh followed, warm, tender flesh of his mouth, pressed against her shoulder before travelling up to sup and nuzzle her neck which she exposed to him, calling him into her. He reached her mouth and she was open and ready. James kissed her gently at first but it was clear she craved more, and her head pushed up, seeking ever more of him. He gave it to her, forcing her mouth open with teeth and tongue and delving inside to plunder her goodness.

But then he slipped from her and Hermione cried a soft cry of loss, but he was soon elsewhere. At her breast now she felt that tickle of hair and caress of lip. He took a nipple between his teeth and tugged, just enough to cause a hiss of sensation to escape her but not enough to pang. She held him there tight, her fingers running through his black curls. She suspected he would stay there for an age; it was his solace, his security, she had always indulged him. But not today. Just as she prepared to let her mind wander as he suckled and nuzzled at will, he was gone, slipping back into the shadows of the room.

But before Hermione could miss him or mourn his loss, there was more: from the other side now, another aroma, familiar yet different, deep and heady, tinged with the sensuous afterthought of lavender. Lucius' hand ran up her inner thigh first, and her leg slackened immediately for him, bending, angling him into her. His long fingers travelled up, a tickle at times, a stroke, a search, up until they found her, so ripe and hot she heard the breath escape him in wonder. He knew her well already and quickly parted the wet flesh to glide two fingers up into her. Hermione arched her back, pushing them even deeper, her breath hitching, her pulse quickening. Opening her eyes she met, even in the gloom, with the penetrating grey of Lucius'. His fingers slipped in and out of her with dexterous intuition, nimbly up to her clit, never too hard for a fierce surge, but perfectly coaxing and building, edging her up to pleasure. She arched to capture his mouth. At first he pulled back, teasing, but when her eyes glazed and her mouth dropped with the approach of her orgasm, he lowered his head and kissed her, deep and open. She came, her cry caught in his mouth.

Hermione fell back on the bed, panting as pleasure ebbed from her, her eyes closed. When she opened them once more and looked to where he had been, he had gone, but then touch again, stroking and soothing. Looking back round, she locked eyes with forget-me-not blue. James kissed her, softly this time and heard her moan, "Want you. Taste you." Moving down the bed he straddled her, and smoothly and deftly, holding the thick length in his hand, he offered his rigid cock to her open mouth.

James sank deep into her with a groan, delighting as her tongue swirled around the head, rejoicing in the hard tug of her cheeks around him.

For Hermione, this was pleasure enough. The feel of cock in her mouth, the taste of complete surrender as man poured himself into her. She sucked him with such adoration he had to thrust his hook over the bed head to steady himself.

But then more. She felt the sweep of a tongue between her legs and pushed instinctively onto it. Lucius began eating her so sweetly, so beautifully, that for a moment she let the warm cock drop from her mouth. James allowed her the adjustment. Hermione mewled, pressing her sex against the searching mouth of her other lover. His tongue was deep inside her now, drinking in the pleasure he had brought from her only minutes before. And then out again, tickling the star-like entrance below before laving up hard and fast to capture her clit fully in his mouth, nuzzling and nipping.

But she needed cock and searched it out. Opening her mouth wide, she reached up to guide it back into her. And then in a rhythm which was intuitive and easy between them, Hermione dragged her mouth along Hook's cock while Lucius sucked her pleasure fast from her. Hermione and James came together. As her orgasm tore through her again, Hermione heard the grunt of release from James and her mouth was filled with salty confirmation.

And then the cock was out of her mouth and Hook slipped down to her breast again, the right this time, lavishing it with as much love as he had the other earlier.

Hermione pressed against him and felt hands gripping her legs, pulling them around a firm torso. Before she realised, Lucius was inside her, large and real, fucking her with smooth regularity, rocking her up and down gently as he stroked powerfully in and out. James moved with her, his mouth totally absorbed on her breast.

Hermione reached one hand up to stroke along the taut muscles of Lucius as he braced himself on the bed, the other tangled in the dense dark locks of James, his tongue now gliding around her nipple in dizzying circles.

This time she subdued her own pleasure. She knew both men were where they most wanted to be. Lucius needed to come. He had waited long enough. She clenched her pussy hard, drawing a groan from him, and urged him deeper and harder into her.

Hook took his mouth from her breast for a mere moment. "Do you feel him, Hermione? Do you feel that? He will have you now. He will take you whenever you want him, whenever your body calls for him. He worships your body as I do. I can see how hard he is for you. I can see him sinking into that perfect place. How I will miss you, my darling, but you have him now."

Hermione sobbed as he came up to capture her mouth in his.

"Does it feel good, my love? Do you feel his cock within you, affirming you? Speak to me, speak to me, my darling."

"Yes, yes ... so good, I love it, I love it so much ..."

She tightened around the cock inside her and widened her eyes to meet Lucius' pleasure bleary gaze. He came powerfully, shooting into her with a grunt.

Lucius slipped back, panting, slumping onto the floor and leaning his head against the end of the bed.

James remained at her breast as minutes slipped away. She stroked his dark curls slowly, but eventually her body protested and once again Hermione missed cock within her. "Come inside me now, James ... want you ... fuck me, please, like you did ..."

Hook manoeuvred himself down the bed so that his legs extended off the bottom. "Sit on me, facing away from me, your back to me."

She drew her leg over him, her cunt, slick with Lucius' cum glistening before his eyes. Hook chuckled and gave her a hard smack on her right arse cheek. She groaned with appreciative shock. He did the same on the other to balance things up. "What a sight. This will feed me for a long time to come. Now, my darling, let me in."

She sank down on him, rearing up and damp with need, leaning forward and bracing herself on his knees.

In this position, he fucked and filled her perfectly, nudging her g-spot such that she cried out with surprise and delight. For a time he let her ride him as she wished, eyes closed, head slack, rising and falling on the thick and hard shaft of flesh. The blond head of Lucius rested just below her, facing away, but as her groans of delight grew ever more abandoned, he turned his head and glanced up. She bit her lip, his eyes thrusting yet more pleasure through her. Lucius slid his body round to face her. At the same moment, Hermione felt a hand capturing her breast, plying the nipple while pulling her back, slowly, carefully so as not to come out of her. Soon she was lying flush back on James. He had pulled her arms in close to her sides so she could not move. His hand pinched and squeezed her nipple while his hook nestled around the other, so carefully, like a cat instinctively knowing just the right amount of pressure to exert so as not to wound prey.

His cock remained hard and deep inside her, the tip roiling and rocking through her at the perfect angle. "Ay, but that is good ... my sweet sweet fuck, my perfect cunt ... but thou shall have more, my angel ... thou deservest all that can be given thee. Look, look my heart, at what you are to us."

And turning her head with bleary bliss, Hermione glanced down to find Lucius positioned between her legs and Hook's. He locked eyes with her and in that split second she almost wept. The cock inside her was fucking her still but then in the next instant pleasure so extraordinary surged through her that she forgot all temporal emotion. Lucius had taken her clit in her mouth and was thrumming over it with his tongue, wet and hot and hard. Her body instinctively rose up with a cry of wonder, her eyes wide, her mouth gaping to counter her rapturous shock. But Hook's arms held her tight, and the pinch on her nipple sharpened. "Stay, stay, feel ..."

And she did; she handed her body over to these two men, and with cock and tongue and mouth and hand, they fucked and ate and held her such that she felt herself as never before. Hermione had lived life fully at every moment, but now again the potential of her body and soul revealed itself anew.

Hook sank up and down, rocking within her like billowing waves at midnight. "I thank you for letting me live through you, in you ... you made me real to take and hold and fuck you so that I can go forth from you and thrive ... and I will, do you hear me, you have fucked life back into me, my heart. And now I give you back to him. Remember me when you are with him, remember this ... look now, look at how he adores you, how he will feast on you ..."

She brought her eyes down to lock with Lucius' and saw his tongue surge along her, ending in a shattering suck on her clit. It was with that that pleasure held her. It started small at first, but then, feeding off the hard flesh filling her cunt, with rushing certainty it spread over and through her flesh, holding her, paralysing her then shaking through with a blaze which broke free with a shattering cry of revelation. And still it raged as Lucius' tongue continued to dance over her and Hook's cock completed her.

Tears were tumbling now but she didn't know it. Still they moved, still they sucked and fucked, not letting her body that sensitive recovery time it usually needed. She braced herself, fearing it would be too much, but it was not. Instead of the prickling pain of post-orgasmic sensitivity, her clit cried out for more and with the nimble dance of tongue and lips upon her and the thrust of still-hard cock within her, she came again, her body's spasms held within her by the strong hands of her lovers. She cried out louder still, tears squeezed again from her eyes. She wanted more. She did not want this feeling to end.

"Again, again, my darlings, my darlings ... more ... I want all of you forever."

And concentrating only on pleasure, she felt the rise of orgasm yet again and this time, with a mere sigh of fulfilment, she let it wash over her, rich and deep. And as he felt her cunt rippling over him for a third time, Hook at last let himself go. He came into her with such force that they were both pushed high off the bed. Lucius pulled back at that moment and watched the two of them held in the mutual grip of ecstasy. Hook grunted with exultation, gripping her hard in his hand, pressing his hook down upon her to hold them together, flesh to flesh.

The three settled into the bed, Hermione in the middle, James and Lucius on either side of her. For a while they allowed sleep to take them, aware of the long night stretching ahead.

After a sleep where her dreams were filled with as much erotic fulfilment as her body had just been, she turned to find Lucius had got up. She heard the tap in the bathroom turned off; but she need not have feared as he at once came back towards the bed.

She slipped down from the bed to greet him, curling her limbs around him and kissing him with violent passion. He held her so hard it hurt, and she brought her hand down to grip his long length which swelled and hardened instantly in her skilled fingers. Hermione tore herself from his mouth and sank to her knees before him, a moan of need caught in her throat.

With desire and hunger she plunged her head upon him and sucked him as he had done her earlier, lavishing him with tongue and lips. His hands came down and curled through her hair, but he did not fuck her mouth, he did not need to. She was working along him with such ardent need that the feeling coursing through him needed no control. Hermione let him slip from her mouth and sank under the length, taking his balls one at a time in her lips and sucking, building up intensity as his body adjusted to the sensitivity. Then back, running her tongue along the veined shaft, back to the head which she licked and teased, lapping at the drops which seeped from the slit, dipping into it, drawing a gasp of sharp pleasure, then gently again before sucking hard and deep, sinking over him fully and feeling long cock slip into her throat.

"Hermione ..."

Her name alone from Lucius' lips brought out such love and desire she applied herself yet more fervently. She held him in her throat before the need for air compelled her to pull back, then agilely and nimbly, while her hand gripped his shaft, she fucked him with her mouth and fingers, not slowing now, giving him that reassurance of regularity to allow him to concentrate on the build of orgasm.

The grip on her hair tightened suddenly and the firm muscles of his abdomen clenched. "Coming, coming, Hermione ..."

With a throbbing grunt he burst hot and hard into her mouth. She felt the head of his cock harden and release three, four times and revelled in capturing, tasting and holding it all in her mouth before swallowing it into her.

And so it continued. The men feasted on her, lavished attention on her, her pleasure raged and surged through her more times than she could number. Sometimes it was clearly Hook, sometimes Lucius, at times they were both upon her, one sucking or nuzzling, the other stroking, caressing.

And then, with perfect fluidity, with instinctual awareness, as Hermione lay on her side, she felt Hook behind her, his taut torso pressing into her back. He was holding himself, large and rigid again, and she felt him nudge into her sodden pussy. She wriggled away from him, down, placing him at that other tight place.

He knew, and dragged his mouth to her ear. "And so you shall, my beloved."

After reaching into the drawer, he took a moment to prepare her, and with a deep sigh of relaxation, Hermione allowed him to squeeze into her arse. He had lifted her leg and eased into her with remarkable smoothness. Hermione sucked in a breath. He pushed deeper, feeling resistance in this position. He stroked her hair from her ear and sighed into it, "Shh, shh, my sweet, feel me, let me in."

With a final exhalation, Hermione let him in and he pushed fully into her, then, gripping her tight round the waist, she felt herself rolled carefully over so that she lay on top of him, her back to his belly, his cock deep in her arse.

And then there was another man between her. Lucius placed himself carefully between Hook's legs and drew Hermione's up around his waist. He reached over and guided her up a little. Hermione braced herself on the bed, partially supported by Lucius' hands. And then, with slow conviction, the blond man pressed into her pussy. Hermione's eyes locked with his. The cock in her arse was filling her as much as she had thought possible already, but then this. Lucius waited for her adjustment, then when the fire in her eyes dimmed a little, he edged in again, feeling her already full with the other man's cock.

"More."

Hermione's voice was caught in the stillness of the air. Lucius pushed harder this time, rising almost fully into her. Hook let out a groan beneath her. And then Lucius was in completely. The three of them stilled for a moment, their breathing low and interchangeable.

And then Lucius began to move. With long, deep strokes, he fucked her, each push of his body, pulling her off the other man a little and every pull out pushing her onto James, a perfect rhythmical triptych.

Hermione was blinded with sensation. The hands and cocks of the men were supporting her entirely. She was lifted from her normal world and placed entirely upon them. They dictated her, worshipped her. As she was moved upon them now, she did not know where one ended and the other began. She lay back slightly and felt firm flesh behind her. Soft breath poured into her ear, black hair caught on her arm. But then above blond and grey swayed and flashed.

"Beauty ... our beautiful Hermione ..."

_Who had spoken?_ But the question did not linger in her mind.

"Remember, always remember ..."

They surged along her, the pleasure of all three of them as one, their bodies rising and falling, dipping and pulsing.

And when they came, the silence of the room was deafening: that sudden stillness as pleasure grips and holds, numbing all other awareness. Hermione felt not only her own but theirs, their seed burst into her, harmonious, together; she felt it hot and thick as if it was her own. And then she came, long, slow and deep, rising, rising, but only as the peak descended did she make a sound; a slow wail of fulfilment and joy.

Her eyes tore open, her mouth agape in amazement.

"I love you."

They both heard it, but as the words floated from Hermione, she was looking into the diamond bright eyes of Lucius Malfoy.

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><p><strong>Those men ... Oh, James ... Oh, Lucius ...<strong>

**Sigh.**

**Last chapter next. It may be a few days before I can post it. **

**Thanks for all your thoughtful reviews. You can even leave one for this chapter if you'd like. ;-)**

**LL x**


	15. Chapter 15

**The last chapter.**

**This story became so much more than I had originally envisaged and I hope you have all enjoyed reading it as much as I have loved writing it.**

**I have fallen even more in love with both Hook and Lucius through it and it has been very very hard to part with either of them. I recommend having the tissues handy when you read this and perhaps taking it in stages. You'll know what I mean when you read. It's not often my writing makes me cry, but this does (with a little nudging from JM Barrie). The quote from _Peter Pan_ is to be found in chapter fourteen, 'The Pirate Ship'.**

**This chapter contains a scene similar to one I wrote for _Discovering Beauty_, but I loved it so much that I 'borrowed' it here with some adaptation.  
><strong>

**Thank you for all your reviews and support throughout. I hope you enjoy this last chapter, if that is the right word.**

**Love, LL x**

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><p>Waking up between Lucius Malfoy and James Hook was not something Hermione Granger could quite fathom.<p>

As she first slid out of sleep in the morning, she daren't open her eyes for fear she had imagined it all. But she could feel two bodies on either side of her, and hear the low steady breathing of two men. Keeping her eyes tightly shut, she allowed herself a small private smile as she thought back to the events of the night. Being their focus, the heart of their attentions, had made her seem like a precious gemstone which they had guarded and polished and gloried in, all theirs.

Both men appeared to be asleep as she turned first to one then the other. Lucius had a hand resting on her shoulder, and James had slung his good arm over her abdomen, pinning her deliciously under its weight. She brought one hand up to stroke over Lucius' fingers and the other to sit atop James' arm.

Her mind replayed specific moments again and she focused on parts of her body, now tender.

Did she feel ashamed? Dirty? Looking down at Lucius' long dark eyelashes, she couldn't regret anything. It had been perfect and it would never be repeated. And she had him.

He stirred and rolled onto his back, opening his eyes slowly as Hermione kissed his shoulder.

Turning his head, he smiled at her. "Hullo."

It took some time before she simply said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I don't understand how you could ..."

Lucius' eyes closed again as he smiled. "Don't expect me to make a habit of it. We both wanted to give you all we could. And this was his last chance. I understand his need for you. And I realise he is leaving. But the memory for you will be very real."

Lucius turned to kiss her again before stretching and rising from the bed. "I'll see you downstairs when you're ready."

"Lucius. I won't ... do anything, you know, with him. Not now."

"I know that." He closed the door, leaving her and James alone.

Hermione turned and simply looked at the dark-haired man sleeping remarkably peacefully, his arm still draped over her.

She studied the curl of his moustache, the bend of his nose, trying to remember every detail she could: the exact blackness of his hair, the lines creasing his jaw.

There she stayed for minutes, perhaps half an hour, not moving, just looking at the man asleep.

And then, suddenly, his eyes opened, and she was dazzled yet again.

She smiled softly in surprise. "Good morning, James Hook." It was the last time she would say it.

"Good morning, Hermione Hermione Granger. And how are you today?"

He teased her with the memory of her first introduction to him, but it did little to soothe her. "I think I may have a leak in my soul."

"Do we need to man the pumps?" But she could no longer raise even a weak smile. James brought up a finger to stroke down her cheek. "I am content to go, Hermione. After last night, I am content. You have nourished me and I can now go and live."

She curled around him once again. "When you go back I know you will seek out Pan. But after you've enjoyed one or two confrontations, do you know what I want you to do?"

"Tell me."

"I want you to sail away from Neverland for a while. Far away. And I want you to discover the world again."

He tightened his hold on her. "And while I sail, do you know what I shall do?"

"What?"

"I shall discover an island, far from any others. New and uncharted. A perfect island, not unlike Neverland but untroubled by fairies and mermaids and ... pirates. And I will name it after you."

"My own island?"

"Yes. I shall name it _Isla Hermione_."

"I like that. I like that very much."

"And when I am feeling at my lowest I will go there, and I will remember you."

"But you must not go there alone."

"Why not?"

"No. As you sail you will meet a lady, beautiful and intelligent and adventurous, and you will take her there. And you will show her your island and you will shower her with your most precious rubies and emeralds and you will tell her your stories and let her tell you her stories. And there, under the silver leaves, silver clouds and silver stars, you will worship every inch of her body and make love to her all night and all day, and she to you, and you will cry out together, the only sound apart from the breaking of the waves on the shore. And you will entrance her as you have entranced me."

"And will she stay?"

"Let us hope so. But if she doesn't, you will sail again and at length find someone else to take there."

"And Pan?"

"He'll be in Neverland when you return. He'll always be there."

"I'm never going to kill him, am I?"

"I don't know, James. That's another story."

"If you were that lady ... would you stay?"

"Yes, my Captain, I would stay. I would stay with you and hold you within me forever." He kissed her head. "But I am not that lady."

James fell silent yet again. His impending departure weighed heavily on them both.

"So ... this magic of yours ... how does it begin?"

She rested on his chest and looked up. "It begins with a very hearty breakfast of sausages and bacon and eggs and tomatoes and mushrooms."

"And black pudding?" he asked optimistically.

"Of course, black pudding!" she declared.

"How very fine indeed. In that case, I think I may manage to get up."

Neither of them spoke as they got ready. Hermione considered going downstairs before him, but couldn't bear the thought of leaving him alone, not so much for her sake but his.

Together, they went down to the kitchen for the last time. Lucius was sitting at the table, clearly waiting for them both.

Hook ate hungrily at first. "If this is to be my last meal, I may as well enjoy it," he declared, but even Lucius could not bring himself to respond with any amusement.

"Well, Malfoy, I thank you for all your hospitality. If one has to be on _terra firma_ for any length of time, this was a rather delightful spot to find oneself in. I am sorry not to be able to repay you in kind. I have considerable riches at my disposal on my ship, but that, as we all know, lies far from here. Still, I hope you feel I have contributed ... something ... during my time in your house."

Lucius silently voiced his agreement with a slight nod.

Hook continued with sardonic amusement, "And, if you should ever find yourself passing by the Neverland I daresay I could find room for you to stay on board ship. I cannot guarantee such spacious surroundings, but after your fill of my food and drink, I can assure you that the cramped quarters will not impinge on the mind quite so much. Still ..." He sniffed in, concentrating on cutting his bacon. "... I doubt somehow that shall come to pass."

Lucius spoke now. "I can't pretend your visit has not been eventful. I think I'll be relegating those sabres to a more inaccessible location."

"With me out of the equation, you could beat any man in a bout, Malfoy. Keep your hand in. I seem to recall suggesting Miss Granger may like to learn to fence. How about it, Hermione?"

"Actually, I used to fence when I was at prep school. I was the girls' regional champion for Under-11 foil."

"Ah ha! You see? Even now she continues to impress me."

Lucius stared at her. "Is there nothing you can't do?"

"My Yorkshire puddings are rubbish," she offered, looking at them both quite seriously for some time before all three started to laugh. It provided a welcome relief from the heavy air of dread which had started to creep in.

Hook had finished and with resolution stood determinedly. "Right. There it is then."

Hermione stayed seated. Lucius pushed his chair back and moved around the table to James. "You know my feelings already about ... the impact of your time here. I will not repeat myself."

"Quite right too. No need, sir."

"Good form?"

"Most emphatically."

Lucius held out his hand towards Hook. "Goodbye, James."

James looked down at the strong hand extending towards him, almost surprised to see it. He took it carefully and gripped it firmly. "Goodbye ... Lucius."

And after a brief glance at Hermione, Lucius nodded at James once again and left the room.

Hermione and James stood in silence. The clock in the corner chimed eleven, its clanging resonance almost apologetic.

Hermione walked around the table slowly and came to stand beside him.

"Is it time?" he asked softly.

She nodded.

"Very well. Let us be done with it. I do not wish to delay any longer. What must be must be. And my ship needs its captain."

Hermione reached out her hand as a mother would for a child. James glanced down and slipped his fingers into hers and carefully, each footstep slow but deliberate, she led him from the room.

She didn't let go of his hand all the way up the stairs, clasping it firmly, trying to engrain the feeling of him into her, to impart a physical memory of his touch into hers.

When they reached the library she shut the door quietly behind them. The materials necessary were set out on the same table she had used when drawing him from the book; she had prepared everything the day before.

Only then did James turn to her, his eyebrow rising a little. "Will this involve pain?"

She shook her head. "No more than when you arrived."

"Ah, but then I had the sight of you greeting me to ease any discomforting confusion. Smee's backside does not look quite so good in breeches." She tried to smile but was finding it virtually impossible.

Hermione had a constant dull weight sitting in her stomach, an incessant prickling behind her eyes. Her limbs felt heavy, as if they would refuse to comply with the demands of her mind.

"Come, my girl. What must be done?" James asked smoothly.

Hermione sucked in a breath, but drew on her inherent resolve and reached for a small bottle of dark red liquid. "You need to drink this. Nearly all the magic is contained in this potion."

"A potion, eh? I'm rather fond of potions."

"That isn't all. You must hold the book."

"The book?"

"You know ... the book you're in."

He frowned in thought. "Do you know, strangely enough, in all my time here I have not actually read any of it."

"That's probably for the best."

"And then?"

Hermione sighed deeply, barely able to force her words out. "I will incant a spell. And ..."

"And ... _poof?" _He opened his closed palm rapidly to accompany the sound.

She spun away, despairing at his attempts to lighten the situation. "Please, James. This is horrible."

James placed his hand gently on her shoulders. Turning her around, he held her close in against him. Hermione buried her head in his shoulders and sobbed suddenly and openly, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry ... I should never have brought you here. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right."

"Not right for whom? For me? I would not have missed this for the world. And you have now what you truly want."

She looked up into those eyes again, shaking her head resolutely. "I won't forget you. I won't forget you ever."

Crossing to the table she picked up her copy of _Peter Pan_ and showed the cover to the Pirate Captain, the man whose own image had been staring out at her from the cover for decades. His eyes shone out from it still, as brilliant as they were in person. "You've always been with me. You always _will_ be with me."

Hook perused it with a wry pout. "Ah, look – a fine fellow. Hasn't quite captured me though, has it? I am far more handsome than that, surely?"

She held him again, clasping him against her as if she could soak him in. "Will you be alright? Are you sure you'll be alright?" Her voice was faltering.

"Of course I will be alright, girly. I am, after all ... _me_." He smirked, pulling back and stroking her cheek with his thumb. Hermione stared into his eyes, unable to tear herself away from the blue. "Is a pirate allowed a final kiss?" he whispered.

She nodded.

Slowly, with a soft smile, James bent his head and touched her lips with his, gently and carefully, not wanting to impose too much. But Hermione needed to remember his taste and opened to him. Under the circumstances, this was not a betrayal of anybody.

James moaned softly and slipped his tongue in, deepening the kiss. It was not a kiss of great passion, but one of the deepest sensuality, remembered forever.

When they finally moved apart she felt his lips brush her forehead in complete devotion; his breath blew warm and gentle over her hair as he at last pulled back with the softest sigh.

"I think I would like to try this potion now."

Hermione blinked back her tears and turned as strongly as she could to the bottle, picking it up, each finger seeming treacherous as it curled around it. Unstoppering it, she held it out slowly and James took it immediately, holding it up to the light. "Hmm. The colour of a rather good Petrus. Very fine."

Looking at her, he gave a sly wink and lifted the bottle to his lips, pouring all of its contents down his throat with no hesitation.

Hermione's stomach lurched and she struggled not to sob again. A fleeting shadow passed across James' face. "Unfortunately, it does not _taste_ like a rather good Petrus."

His dry humour now only prompted her emotions to surge unstoppably. She wondered if she could remain standing.

Only now did he hesitate. She felt him stop himself, saw his Adam's apple rise and fall quickly, saw his eyes casting rapidly around the room. But then, drawing himself to his full height, he turned to her, his mouth rising into the slightest but sweetest smile, and held out his hand for the book. She stared straight at him.

"Goodbye, James."

"Goodbye, girly."

The tears in her eyes were set to brim over. She handed him the hardback volume. He glanced at it curiously.

"What lies inside, I wonder?"

"You don't have to open it. You simply have to hold it," she said gently, her voice catching.

James smirked ruefully and slowly let the pages fall open. He flicked through a little until his eyes settled on one passage. As he read silently, his smirk vanished and his face took on a distant quality of realisation and resignation.

Hermione's tears were by now falling unstoppably.

James looked up at her with such open humanity her heart missed a beat. "Thank you ... Hermione ... for being here for me. For being _with_ me." He gripped the book tight, its pages still open. "Now ... say what you must."

Staring hard into his eyes, she spoke, hardly hearing the words herself. _"Mittere corpus ad libri, mittere spiritum ad scriptum, de qua vos revertatur__." _

All at once, Hermione couldn't bear the passage of time.

"I don't want you to go!" she cried out desperately. "I can't let you go back there alone."

She saw his own eyes bluer than ever before but misted with a bright moisture. "What have I told you, my heart? Do not weep for me. I am the first to say it – I am so very not worthy of the effort."

And then, standing before her, James started to fade. Still clinging to the book in one hand, he held up his other arm and stared at it. The tip of the hook grew fainter, translucent, until it vanished altogether. And the transparency then started to travel up his arm as the rest of his body grew dimmer. She could now see through him to the bookcases beyond.

"James!"

He looked fully into her, and all at once James Hook's eyes contained regret and apprehension. He extended his hand, the one still clutching the open book. She wasn't sure if he was reaching out for her or showing it to her. But it was too late. His arm was fading fast.

By now all that was left of him was his magnificent face, still framed by that curling black hair. And then that too began to disappear.

She saw him open his mouth to speak to her. His words were muffled and hollow, as if caught on the wind from a distant hillside.

"Hermione ..."

And then any sound was lost and she could only see his lips moving, but she recognised all too well the shape of the words formed on those lips: three short words. And then those blue eyes, the last of him, grew dimmer. She stared as strongly as she could into them through her incessant tears until the very last.

The book fell to the ground with a thud, and he was gone.

Hermione collapsed to the floor, her body useless, her soul empty. She groped for the book. It was still open to the page at which he'd been staring. Her eyes cast over it rapidly as another sob heaved its way from her. She read aloud:

"_Hook trod the deck in thought. O man unfathomable. It was his hour of triumph ... But there was no elation in his gait, which kept pace with the action of his sombre mind. Hook was profoundly dejected ... It was because he was so terribly alone."_

She closed the book and clutched it to her, rocking back and forth as time slid away, until she had exhausted her tears.

-xxoOoxx-

Hermione lost track of how long she sat there on the floor, but eventually she became aware of footsteps behind her.

"Are you alright?" Lucius' voice was remarkably tender.

"Not really."

And so he knelt down beside her, drew her into his arms, and held her. At first she simply let him do the embracing, but at length she twined herself about him as tightly as she could.

"It went as it should have done. The magic, I mean ... nothing went wrong. It's not really me that I'm upset about ... it's him. He has nobody."

"He did have you. That is worth more, even in a short time, than surrounding himself with false friendship."

She looked up at him. "Why didn't you ever say things like that before?"

"I didn't think they sounded right coming from me."

At last Hermione's mouth curled up with faint tenderness at the corners. "I love you, Lucius."

He swallowed hard and pulled her in against him, denying her the chance to look too long into his dampening eyes.

At length she allowed him to pull her carefully to her feet and lead her to his room, where he suggested she lie down. He started to leave her alone but she caught his hand tightly. "Don't leave me. Lie here beside me. Please."

Lucius lay down on the bed, pressing his long limbs against her length and feeling her nestle into him. He brought his hand over her and stroked slowly and soothingly. They stayed like that for some time as the rain which had pattered down all morning at last stopped its dance on the windowpanes.

"I feel like going out, away from here. I went to Salisbury the other day. I was a bit distracted then. It would be nice to go there with you." Hermione brought his hand to her lips and kissed the tips of his fingers.

"Muggle towns and I don't tend to go well together."

"It's only the fear of the unknown."

"No, it's ..." He sighed, stopping himself. "Alright."

"Don't worry ... I'll hold your hand. And I'll even buy you a new chocolate wand to replace the one you ate." She turned her head to look at him, bestowing him with a delicious smirk, allowing humour to dispel some of the gloom inside.

He cocked his eyebrow. "If you're lucky I might even let you nibble on it."

Hermione turned into him, curling her slender legs around him and kissing him. Her pain was further eased by his taste. He had the most soothing kiss she could imagine. The bubbles of desire inside her started to rise yet again. Tearing her mouth from his, she whispered against his ear, "I would quite like a little nibble before we go out."

"Oh, I think that could be arranged."

And without further ado, he set about arranging it.

-xxoOoxx—

They eventually got ready to go out at about four o'clock. Lucius dressed in a suit, unable to dispense with elegant formality completely. He looked as if he was going to a board meeting and prompted Hermione to stifle a giggle when he appeared in the hall.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"I presume you are tittering away over my attire." His cheekbones were tinged pink.

"No, no ..." She exploded with giggles again. "Your ... _attire_ ... is very becoming."

He glanced down and smoothed over the slate grey material. "My tailor assures me this is designed to the highest Muggle specifications. You should be pleased I have something Muggle made. My man at Twilfitt and Tattings sent this off to some establishment on Savile Road."

Hermione couldn't stop laughing. "Savile _Row_. Your _man_ did a very good job. You look splendid, wonderful. It's just a bit ... formal. At least take your tie off and undo the top buttons." She did so for him before he could protest. "You could get a pair of jeans, you know."

His face wrinkled.

"Don't tell me you don't know what jeans are?"

"Draco turns up in them occasionally," he remarked dismissively.

"They come in all shades and styles. And designer jeans can be very expensive. If you wanted you could spend an awful lot of money on them. That might make you feel better."

"Are you calling me a snob?"

"You, Mr Malfoy? Would I ever?" she teased.

"Yes," he sighed again. "And you'd be right. As usual."

She laughed. "Come on. Your _man_ may have done a good job referring you to a decent Muggle tailor, but _you _are now _my _man and I want you to take me out." Hermione planted a kiss full on his lips.

He glanced down with a smirk. "Thank you for ..."

"For what?"

"For ... enlightening me."

"Long may it continue."

He grinned before clasping her hard and apparating them both to Salisbury.

-xxoOoxx-

Lucius had not tied his hair back, and although he kept it shorter than in the past, it still drew many curious stares from passers-by. It was not every day the people of Salisbury were treated to the sight of a man with platinum blond shoulder-length hair dressed in a bespoke suit strolling the streets with a woman half his age on his arm.

"I think people are staring at us."

"I think you're right. Do you mind?" she grinned.

"No ... I quite like it."

"I thought you would. They'd stare even more if you cast a Patronus to frolic around the cathedral close," she joked.

"Perhaps I should," he mused, lacking conviction.

"I don't even know what your Patronus is."

"I haven't cast one for ages. I can't remember the last time, in fact. Not since my twenties."

"I'd like to see it." She squeezed his hand.

"I can't possibly do it in the open. The Ministry wouldn't take kindly to that. You know using magic in front of Muggles is illegal."

Hermione turned to him with a wicked grin. "Aah ... but I work for the Ministry and I get special dispensation to use magic whenever necessary. If you were to use _my_ wand ..."

He cocked an eyebrow at her bravado. "My Patronus might not work."

"Unlikely."

"And the Muggle witnesses?"

She shrugged. "They would have something to tell their grandchildren. Life is terrible enough, Lucius. Why not give them something wonderful for a change?"

He smiled, taking her hand. "Come along then."

Leading her back through the streets they came swiftly to the open space of the cathedral close, a great expanse of green framed by ancient buildings and dominated by the glorious spired wonder of Salisbury cathedral. Lucius stopped in his tracks and looked up at it. "A beautiful thing."

"Hmm. It was built in the early part of the thirteenth century."

"Older than my house. Older than my family."

"It can happen, Lucius," she stated with a hint of sarcastic teasing.

It was growing late. A few people were still emerging from Evensong. They lingered in the close as the light grew dimmer around them. Hermione and Lucius took themselves into a secluded part, tucked away around a corner of the cathedral. She handed her wand over to him.

"What do you think it will be?" he teased.

"I've often wondered ... a big cat of some kind ... a leopard or panther perhaps."

He cocked an eyebrow, raised the wand and proclaimed forcefully, _"Expecto patronum!"_

Hermione watched entranced as silvery threads poured from the tip of the wood and morphed into a creature which darted off across the expansive green of the close.

It was a fox.

The slight, nimble silvery creature darted and dashed, sniffing around and dancing around the bystanders with mischievous innocence, its long bushy tail trailing sparks and wisps behind it. People simply stopped in their tracks and stared disbelievingly at the enchanting mystical creature prancing around them.

"Not a cat. Sorry to disappoint."

Hermione beamed. "He's beautiful. Completely beautiful. Very elegant. And very clever."

"Sly old fox. A survivor. Always looking for an opportunity. Always managing to sniff his way out of trouble."

She took his hand silently and led him out onto the close as they watched the animal continue to prance around people's heels against the backdrop of the cathedral.

"I always thought of our friend James Hook as being rather fox-like – the form of a refined English gentleman concealing an inherent determination and raw animal passion," Lucius stated, deep in thought.

Hermione smirked. He could have been describing himself. "That's why you two could never quite work out if you adored or detested each other."

Lucius glanced down in query.

"Too alike."

He turned away with a wry smirk. The bemused onlookers were commenting and murmuring as the fox continued to dart between them. A little girl aged about seven stood transfixed, staring at the silvery creature as it at last started to fade. She had been looking at the two of them before Lucius had cast his spell and now she came up with the confident insouciant curiosity only children possess. She skipped right up to Lucius.

"You did that, didn't you?"

His eyebrows rose in surprise at being addressed so confidently by anyone, let alone a child. But the girl had an open face with deep, knowing eyes. His resistance immediately evaporated and he knelt to her. "I did."

"It was very pretty. I wish I could do that. But I'd want a cat."

Lucius smiled. "Hermione wanted a cat too. But I like my fox."

"Are you Hermione?" The girl turned to her.

"Yes."

"My cousin's called Hermione. Nobody can ever say it properly. My name's Clara. Who are you?" She fixed her confident eyes once again on the wizard.

"I'm called Lucius." He barely hesitated before telling the Muggle child his name.

"How did you do that with the fox?"

He smiled gently, leaning in to impart his secret in a whisper. "Magic."

Her eyes only widened a little before her fresh young mind accepted it. "I thought so. I saw you with that stick. Was it a wand?"

"That's what some people would call it."

"You must be a magician . Or a wizard. Even better. Don't worry, I won't tell. I know all about the magic circle. Or the wizard circle if you're a wizard, I suppose."

"I'll let you decide," Lucius smiled, pulling himself to his feet and glancing around the close. "You'd better go back to your mother, Clara. Where is she?"

The girl turned and pointed to a woman closing in on them with remarkable speed and determination. She did not look happy.

Clara sighed. "That's her. She'll tell me off for talking to strange people."

"Are we strange people, Clara?"

The little girl looked up at him curiously for a moment, as if trying to work it out. "You have very smart clothes ... but your hair's weird." Clara continued to stare at him in focussed assessment. "But you're a wizard," she mused before nodding, satisfied with her conclusion, "you just about get away with it."

Lucius smiled.

"Clara! Clara! What have I said? You really mustn't go wandering off like that and you never, _never _to talk to strangers again. You don't know what could happen. How many times do I have to tell you?"

The tight woman closing in on them, whose expression for some reason made Hermione think she'd been chopping onions all day, marched up and grabbed her daughter by the wrist. With an indignant and slightly perplexed look at the unusual but admittedly good-looking man and his young, beautiful companion, she pulled her daughter away, muttering about not talking to weird men with long hair. Clara forced her head round as she was led off, smiling broadly at them both.

Lucius turned to Hermione with a grin. "Charming child."

"She was. And a Muggle at that."

"I should imagine you were a bit like that at that age."

"Possibly."

"Precocious."

"Definitely."

He smirked, looking at the people still pointing and murmuring about the strange translucent fox which had just danced across the lawns. "Now then. Where do you get those chocolate wands?"

Taking his hand again, Hermione led him to the shop.

-xxoOoxx-

The trip to Salisbury had been the right thing to do. The incident in the close had brought her even closer to Lucius, revealing a side to him she had never before imagined, and had taken her mind off the agony of earlier. They had eaten out, and when at last they returned home, Hermione was immensely grateful they had. The thought of eating at the Manor without James brought a rush of pain coursing through her again. As she settled into bed that night, keeping Lucius close, she found her mind still consumed with worry about him. But as the strong arms of her lover encircled her into his lavender haze, she allowed herself to slip at last into sleep. Pirate captains were, after all, rather good at looking after themselves.

-xxoOoxx-

Time passed, as it must. Hermione returned to work at the Ministry but moved into the Manor permanently soon after James' departure. It would take a while before she felt comfortable disclosing her relationship with Lucius, but when she did, she found her friends, and even his family, remarkably tolerant. Their attitude was hardly generous at first, but as the nature of the whole story emerged, little by little, she found the situation becoming more and more accepted.

Time changed people, after all. And time healed, if you allowed it.

The Manor began to open its doors more, and Lucius and Hermione found themselves hosting many parties and dinners. New life had been breathed not only into the house but into them. Together, the war heroine and ex-Death Eater formed a life which was the envy of many around them, not for their wealth and position, but for their clear happiness and generosity of spirit, never as evident as when they were together.

And what of marriage and children?

As is so often said, that is another story.

-xxoOoxx-

And every night, no matter how busy or exhausting their day had been, the two lovers would slide into bed and turn to each other, once again affirming their acceptance and understanding through love-making which remained a revelation to them both in the extraordinary pleasure it brought.

But when she finally turned away from him, just before slipping into that other world, that world where dreams held no corporeal limits or conventions, Hermione would glance down beside the bed. There, tucked just out of sight to all but her, she kept a single tattered old hardback book, a book infused with the faintest aroma of vanilla. And on the cover, staring up at her, never changing, framed by the deepest black curls, glinted eyes of forget-me-not blue.

She did not forget him.

* * *

><p><strong>LL x<strong>


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